Blackbird
by strapped to a comet
Summary: Everyone's past comes back to haunt them sooner or later. For some of the RRTS, the newest recruit will resurrect a great deal. ReaperOC. Movie based. Rating for safety.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I've only seen the movie, so this is based on that. A ReaperOC, but give it a shot! I mean, it's Goat's sister...that family's BOUND to be interesting...; )_

**Blackbird  
Chapter 1**

Reaper sighed again as he ran a oil-slick cloth along his gun slide when he heard Portman's loud voice echo down the stairwell from Sarge's office. A moment later, a door slammed and Portman stormed down the stairwell, his face twisted with anger.

"Honestly, what the fuck does he think I am? A _dog_?" Portman complained to no one in particular.

Reaper noticed him grabbing his coat from one of the locker closets located against the wall, and put down his gun slide.

"Where are you going?" Reaper asked.

"To pick up our new God damned recruit. Where does it look like I'm going? The mall?" Portman sneered.

Reaper ignored the piss-poor attitude and returned to cleaning his gun. RRTS was to receive to new recruits within the next month. One, a Corporal Nat Cathers, and the other, a Private fresh out of training. Apparently one would be arriving today, as soon as Portman would get off his ass and go pick the new man up.

- - -

One hour later, the elevator rung in a mechanical melody upstairs, announcing the return of Portman and the arrival of the new recruit.

"Oh, you're gonna _love_ this!" Portman called out to the men as he stepped out of the elevator and headed for the stairwell that led to the main barracks.

Nat Cathers, a few paces behind him, let out a sigh. Portman hadn't shut up - or stopped glaring - since he'd picked her up from the transport. She was used to being hassled about her gender because she had chosen a profession that most women wouldn't take, but that hadn't stopped her from rising to the rank of Corporal, either. Still, Portman was getting on her last nerves.

Duffel bag in hand - her only possession in the army life - she walked up to the stairwell and descended the steps at a measured pace. Usually, she could deal with a team of testosterone-driven special ops soldiers giving her a hard time about the fact that she was female, but after having to endure Portman for an hour, she was close to fed up. All she wanted was to report into her new CO and _sleep_. The flight over the Atlantic from her home in England had been exhausting enough. She hadn't slept in the last thirty-six hours.

"Where is the Sergeant's office?" Nat asked Portman impatiently.

"What? You don't want to meet the boys first?" Portman goaded her.

"Portman!"

Nat stiffened at the sharp, reproving voice. With all her weapons training, she didn't flinch at the sharp out-of-the-blue sounds anymore.

Portman made a face, but turned and trotted down the stairwell, mumbling something under his breath. Nat took in the appearance of who she suspected was her CO.

"Nat Cathers?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," she replied automatically. She handed him her transfer papers her prior CO had given to her before she left, feeling uncomfortable under this CO's critical gaze.

The Sergeant took the papers, and looked them over.

"Cathers, right. I know Sergeant Blake. If he says you're good, you better live up to it," the Sergeant remarked, his eyes still scanning the papers. When he looked up again, he smiled briefly. "Welcome to RRTS, Cathers. I'm sure you'll find your previous units a walk in the park compared to us."

"Looking forward to it, sir," Nat replied, semi-automatically. She managed a weak smile.

"Follow me," the Sergeant motioned for her to follow him. To Nat's dismay, he headed towards the stairwell Portman had just taken moments ago. She didn't have enough energy for any more introductions. Portman had acted like an asshole to her, and the Sergeant seemed uniform and by the book. She was exhausted, but had been trained to go without sleep for days. At twenty-five years old, Nat needed at least three hours a night to function.

The Sergeant stopped at the raised landing. Nat walked down the stairs, dropping her duffel bag by her side once she reached the landing as well. Six pairs of eyes turned in their direction. Nat saw three men sitting around a table playing cards, one playing a hand-held video game, and another sitting at a corner table, cleaning a gun slide. She had glanced over the other four men, but paused at the last, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu as she watched the man handling the guns.

"Men." The Sergeant gathered his team's attention, also breaking Nat's focus of the lone member in the corner. The men stopped what they were doing, and looked up. "One of our new recruits, Corporal Nat Cathers," he announced without preamble.

"A lady Nat," the man holding the video game remarked, grinning.

Nat looked at the man who had spoken, trying to place his face from the visual profiles she had been given to brief herself on before she'd arrived at RRTS. She recognized the good-natured face as the man nicknamed Duke. She was about to answer him when someone from near the back of the main barracks spoke up.

"Natalie?"

She froze when she recognized the voice. She glanced at the Sergeant, who just gave her a hard look back, before he nodded, turned and left. Nat watched as her brother got up from a chair near the back, placing his copy of the Bible down on the table as he walked over towards the congregation.

"Shit," Nat muttered, wide-eyed. Without knowing why, she glanced at the man who had been cleaning his guns, and met his dark gaze for a moment. There was confusion in his eyes.

"You two know each other, Goat?" Duke asked.

"Goat?" Nat repeated, confused. Was that his codename, then?

"What's going on here?" Portman cut in, impatient for answers.

"You aren't supposed to be here," Nat said dumbly.

"Neither are you," Goat countered in a dark tone. Nat could tell he was angry with her.

"Could someone please tell me how the fuck these to know each other?" Portman demanded.

"He's my brother," Nat answered finally.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you to my reviewers! This chapter is dedicated to _EnyoGraeae_ for sending me the ranks information to fix the first chapter - thanks again! Okay, so chapter two here, enjoy and don't forget to review with your thoughts! -Karys  
_

**Blackbird  
Chapter 2**

"Your _brother_?" Portman demanded, incredulous. Now Nat and Goat had everyone's undivided attention.

Nat flashed a glance in the direction of the dark-haired man without meaning to, but her brother's voice cut through her momentary lapse.

"Only by blood," Goat muttered, still in that same dark tone.

His tone snapped Nat out of her stupor and into anger. The comment was meant to sting and it succeeded. She knew her brother knew it would, too, and that only made her more defiant.

"Glad to see you haven't changed, Gregory," Nat responded good-naturedly, using his real name. She hoisted up her duffel bag and cut in between Duke and another team member, an Asian man whom she thought was named Mac, and made for the living quarters before she could be bombarded by a full-on interrogation.

She heard Duke fire off questions in her brother's direction as he stalked back to his corner as she heaved her duffel bag onto a vacant cot. With a sigh, she sat down on the cot - the bottom of the double-bunks - and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to work out some of the tension.

The rest of the men went back to what they were doing, more wise than Duke not to challenge Goat when he was in a bad mood. They would ask their questions later; she knew that. She also knew it wouldn't be wise to approach her brother just yet. She needed to give him time to digest the fact that his baby sister had signed up for one of he most elite task forces in the world before she confronted him.

"Hey, Corporal Cathers, was it?"

Nat looked up to see Duke leaning against the doorframe, a grin already on his face.

"Just Nat," she shrugged.

"Okay. Nat." Duke tried out the name, smiling again. "Want the crash course in RRTS etiquette?"

"Why not," she smiled a half-smile. Duke could make anyone feel at ease.

_Unlike certain others_, Nat thought, her mind immediately returning to that unsettling dark gaze, the member of RRTS that had been admiring a clean gun slide when she'd first arrived. Had that only been a few minutes ago?

Duke's voice brought her out of her thoughts. "Rule one: there is no etiquette." Nat chuckled. "Rule two: Duke is God."

Nat heard a rather loud scoff from the barracks. It had to be Portman.

"Rule three," Duke continued, unperturbed, "all RRTS members get nicknames."

"Okay," Nat thought, and bit her lip out of habit. "Why not just Nat, then?" She asked, confused. Her name was short enough to serve as a nickname, wasn't it?

Duke shook his head. "Nah, can't be your name. That's rule number four," he reasoned.

"Ah," Nat sighed. She decided against pointing out the fact that Portman's nickname was his last name.

"We'll think of one for ya, don't worry," Duke assured her with a wink.

- - -

The next morning, Nat was startled awake from the same nightmare she'd been suffering from ever since she had lost her parents. Her breathing came in shallow rasps, sweat beaded on her forehead. She could feel her hair, dark blond just like her brother's, cling to her neck. The blankets and her cot - the whole living quarters felt confining.

There weren't any windows in the living quarters and from where she sat, the four bunks she could see - with labels Mac, Destroyer, Duke and the Kid to identify the occupant - were still filled the very asleep aforementioned members. Nat couldn't gauge what time it was by light, and she found that fact a little uncomfortable.

She glanced at her digital alarm clock: 4:34 AM. She groaned, quickly tying up her mussed hair in a black elastic. Her neck felt a little cooler now, but still very damp with sweat.

_Might as well get up_, Nat sighed. _We rise at five anyway._

Throwing off the covers - she slept in shorts and a T-shirt - she shrugged into her standard issue black cargo pants and pulled on a gray sweatshirt. Barefoot, she walked into the barracks in search of some water.

"'Morning, Corporal."

Nat nearly jumped a foot in the air - she was still very on edge from her nightmare - when she heard the familiar voice coming from her left. How had she not seen him there?

The man she recognized from the day before as Reaper, her CO's second-in-command was, yet again, sitting at the same table in the corner, cleaning his guns. How many did he have, anyway? And did he ever sleep?

"Good morning," Nat said, trying to shake the lingering fear from her nightmare.

Reaper glanced up from his guns, giving her an assessing glance as if gauging whether to say anything at all. His eyes flickered to her hair, then to her still slightly shaking hands. Self-consciously, Nat stuffed them in her central sweatshirt pocket. Then his dark eyes met hers, and she felt a shiver that wasn't residue from her nightmare.

"I haven't heard someone call Goat Gregory in ten years," he remarked in a distant tone.

This caught Nat's attention. She perked up a little, not the least bit sleepy now. Reaper obviously knew Goat well enough to know his real name. Were they friends and not just team members?

"Is that how long he's been with RRTS? Ten years?" Nat asked, genuinely curious. She couldn't read his expression at all.

Reaper shrugged, went back to cleaning his guns. The action - which seemed more a habit than anything else - annoyed Nat more than she thought it should. "More or less. Goat keeps to himself," he replied cryptically.

"He didn't use to," Nat murmured, more to herself than to Reaper.

A silence fell between them then, Nat just standing there, and Reaper cleaning his gun slides. Nat became aware of the fact that her hair was damp and mussed, messily tied back into a ponytail. She could feel her face was still flushed from the scare the nightmare had given. She probably looked like hell. Whereas at that moment Nat became aware of the fact that Reaper was wearing only sweatpants and a white tank, his black spiky hair untamed, his stubble make him look only more like a rogue soldier instead of a second-in-command in one of the most elite task forces in the world.

"What's for breakfast, baby?" Came Duke's voice from the living quarters, rubbing his hands together. By now, Nat had regained her bearings from the physical aftermath of her nightmare.

As always, leave it to Duke to break the any silence.

"Am I expected to answer that?" Nat asked wryly, arching an eyebrow. She hated stereotypes, but she was smirking as she spoke.

Duke grinned. "Actually, Reaper was. He's the cook here. Everyone else burns the toast."

Nat knew Duke was joking but glanced at Reaper anyway. Stoic gunman? Cook? She couldn't picture it.

"I'm sure you can feed yourself," Reaper answered absently without looking up from his guns.

Duke shook his head and chuckled, but made for the kitchen nonetheless. A few of the other members - whom she recognized as Mac and Destroyer - had risen soon after as well. Portman and her brother hadn't come out yet. Aimlessly, Nat made her way over to the table where her brother's battered copy of the Bible lay.

She traced a finger over the five gold embossed words.

"Where'd you go, Greg?" Nat whispered, sadness coloring her quiet tone.

She didn't see Reaper glance her way, his usually hard expression almost curious, while her gaze was fixed on the object of her brother's penance.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you to all the new reviewers - glad to hear it's good so far! Fight and flight, I say...enjoy chapter three :)_

**Blackbird  
Chapter 3**

A week later, Nat found herself leaning on her elbows on the center island in the RRTS kitchen, draining a grey plastic mug of black coffee, desperately needing the energy that morning.

She hadn't slept well the night before. No, correction. She hadn't slept at _all_ the night before. The nightmares were becoming more frequent - not just once every few days, but twice in one night. At least, the nights she dared to go back to sleep after waking up drenched in sweat and out of breath as if she'd just run twenty miles.

"I need a vacation," Nat muttered, rubbing her eyes with her free hand, pushing herself off of the center island at the same time. She drained the last of her coffee, and tossed the plastic mug in the sink. It clattered, and she found that even that little noise made her head hurt.

She checked her watch: 4:53 AM. The rest of the team would be up soon.

_And I've been up for an hour_, Nat thought dismally.

She knew she had to get to the bottom of her nightmares, what was causing them, because every day - though she was relatively new to RRTS - she knew that certain, more observant members of the team could see that something other than grueling work demands was dragging her down. Only three had noticed, to be specific - her brother, Sarge, and of course, Reaper.

Nat tried to ignore the fact that her senses tingled when the thought of Reaper came into her mind. For whatever reason, when she was in his presence, she was always on her guard a little more than normal, more apprehensive, aware.

_Romanticist_, Nat berated herself. _This is a job, and I have orders, and they don't pertain to fantasies that do not include reaching an objective when assigned a mission._

It was a textbook answer, but she accepted it nonetheless.

For the past week, she had gotten to know the members of RRTS a little more.

Destroyer, she discovered, was like an unofficial second-in-command to the second-in-command. He had a level head. Duke, of course, always did one of two things when he opened his mouth - lighten the mood of a situation, or piss Sarge off. Nat found both amusing. There was Mac, who spoke an average of five words per day, but never quite got rid of his passively amused expression. He also liked baseball, same as Destroyer. Portman was a cynic through and through, but when he wasn't trying to be a hard-ass, Nat found he wasn't so bad. Still an ass, but one with a sense of decency sometimes. There was Sarge, and though Nat knew he was a good leader of his men, she couldn't help but shaking a creeping feeling she always got around him - like he was cold, detached, even though he was very real and barking orders most of the time.

And then there was Reaper. He'd made an effort to introduce himself - but only briefly. She had tried to figure him out multiple times, but it had ended in failure. The deja vu feeling had not gone away, and she found she didn't want it to. It gave her something to think about, to try and figure out, on those nights when she couldn't sleep or the mornings when she woke up before normal rising time for the rest of the team.

Then, of course, there was her brother, too. Nat didn't know what to make of him - he'd definitely changed since the last time she had seen him. That had been in prison, and her last words to him through the black plastic telephone receiver had been "Stay the fuck in jail". She regretted them the moment she'd said them, but she hadn't shown it then. Since her brother's release, it had been an annual birthday card and a call every six months asking how she was doing. She answered the same "fine" every year, and didn't reply to the birthday card until his birthday rolled around and it was her turn.

In all that time, she had never asked where he was, what he'd been doing, and nor had he.

_Well, look what good that did us_, Nat sighed. Walking out of the kitchen and into the barracks, she glanced at the shuttered windows that lined one wall of the barracks. Then her eyes wandered to the naked cardboard stand in of a woman wearing a white baseball cap. The woman's hands and legs were poised so nothing was revealed - one hand was actually gloved - but Nat had to roll her eyes at the souvenir. Portman had brought back with him on the team's last vacation, he had proudly boasted to her a few days ago.

She didn't mind - it wasn't like she was going to be offended by Portman's antics. She'd been assigned to worse units than RRTS before - and by units, she meant ignorant assholes who had the nerve to call themselves men.

"You don't ever sleep anymore, do you?" Came her brother's voice from behind her.

Nat let her eyes flutter closed for a moment. She had been avoiding talking to her brother for going on eight days now. The tension between them was subtle, but even Portman hadn't been able to ignore all that had gone unsaid and unasked between the two siblings. Taking a deep breath, Nat opened her eyes turned towards her brother as he walked out into the barracks.

"Not lately," Nat answered truthfully.

Her brother was silent, and in his closed-off, bland expression she could see that he was waiting for her to say something. After years of silence, he had nothing to say to her now that she was his own team member?

"Look, Greg--" She began, but was cut off.

"It's Goat," he corrected her. "I'm Goat now. Please call me by my name."

Nat crossed her arms, defiance instantly forming in both her expression and stance.

"I grew up knowing Greg. Greg Cathers, my big brother? Gregory, you remember him, right?" Nat's temper from a week before was resurfacing with a vengeance. Maybe she shouldn't have had a full mug of straight black coffee on so little sleep. Too late now.

"I remember what I put you through, what I put my twelve-year-old sister through." Something in Goat's tone silenced both Nat's temper and her defiant stance. Now, the memories resurfaced, and she closed her eyes against that old pain.

After a short silence, Goat continued. "I'm not that person any more. I've changed, and with His help, I shall not stray from my path again." His words held a note of finality in them.

Nat looked at her brother, really _looked_ at him, after not seeing him for years. His time in prison had aged him five years more than he actually was. There were scars on his face she hadn't remembered on him the last time she'd visited him in prison. His eyes were a steel grey, not the carefree blue they used to be. He seemed taller, more imposing, probably from having to survive in prison.

Slowly, Nat gave her brother a weak smile.

"I know you won't," she said quietly.

Goat gave a short nod, and then changed the subject, knowing to leave what had passed in the past. He had never been big on displaying his emotions, and it was a trait Nat had grown accustomed to. It had been in the little things that he had shown he loved his little sister.

"About how you ended up on this squad," Goat opened up another discussion they had also been avoiding for the past week.

Nat let out a sigh, and decided to answer plainly. "I said I wanted a challenge. My former CO was fed up with me after--"

"Your insubordination charges? Yeah, that tends to piss officers off when their soldiers don't follow orders." Goat said, a small, barely-there smile tugging at the side of his mouth.

Nat's stared at him in utter confusion. "How did you know about those? I've been in England for the past five years."

"I kept track of you," he replied, with no preamble. Nat didn't know whether to feel angry that he'd never tried to contact her more than the norm, or to feel grateful that he had cared enough to keep tabs on her. Eventually, she gave in to the first.

Goat read her expression, and spoke before she could. "Shit aside, you're still my sister," he said simply. As an afterthought, he added, "Though, I wanted to drag you out by your thumbs when I realized you'd been assigned to Sarge's squad."

Nat immediately felt another argument coming on. "I'm not leaving the team, if that's what you're getting at," she warned, though in weary tone.

Goat let out a deep sigh, from years of escaping death and worse in RRTS.

"If you had any idea what we've done..." Goat began.

"I'm not made of glass, Greg," Nat said coldly, her mood now sullied.

"No, you're my sister and RRTS missions are truly nothing you could ever be prepared for!" Goat's temper flared audibly and visibly for the first time in a long time.

Nat glared up at her brother and let out a strangled grunt of annoyance and indignance. _Now_ he was playing the protective older brother card? Before she could say anything she would regret, she stormed from the barracks, stalking down one of the halls that led to a compact mess hall where the team gathered for post-mission celebrations. Duke had told her about it on her second day at the RRTS facility.

Thankfully, the mess hall was deserted when she entered.

To her surprise, Nat felt hot tears press into her eyes. Sliding rather forcefully into an empty metal table with built in benches. Her tailbone connected with the flat seat, and she winced, while shoving aside her tears with her hand, shaking her loose hair out of her face.

She _didn't_ cry. Corporal Natalie Cathers did _not_ cry. She had made that promise the day her brother had been convicted, hours after she had cried her eyes out after the verdict had been read, crying on the shoulder of no one because not only had she lost her brother in the whole catastrophe, she had also lost her parents as well.

"Damnit!" Nat exclaimed under her breath.

Her brother hadn't changed at _all_, regardless of the fact that he'd kept track of her and that she still wished, even after their row, that they could go back to being brother and sister again, like they had before he'd gotten into all sorts of trouble she hadn't understood at the time.

Nat didn't know how long she had been sitting there before she saw a white cloth drop just to the left of where her elbows were resting on the metal surface of the table. It was a gun cleaning cloth, feather soft and completely unused.

She looked up, and to her shock and embarrassment, met a startling pair of dark eyes. Her mouth gaped before she registered the fact that Reaper had caught her in tears. He was wearing a dark grey sweatshirt and black cargo pants. His hair was spiky and wild as always.

Wordlessly, Nat took the cloth, unable to break his gaze. She desperately hoped Reaper would just disappear, or that she would wake up and the fight with Goat and Reaper finding her in tears would be a dream. And to her newfound relief, after another moment of feeling the same déjà vu she had before as Reaper continued to watch her, he turned and left the mess hall without a word.

Nat was thankful for his silence then.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: A few days later than I promised, but I'm leaving for Hawaii for eight days tomorrow! I'm in packing/panic hell right now. Just so you know. But I love all you guys so much for reviewing, so I made this chapter a bit fluffier than intended. It's the romantic in me, stodgy old thing! This chapter's like two updates in one, or one and a half updates in one…either way, to hold you over 'til I return! Don't forget to review :) -Karys_

**Blackbird  
Chapter 4**

She felt trapped. She knew there were four corners to a room, and she was backed up against one of them, clinging to the crumbling plaster walls in fear. No way out, no escape, and she stared into sparkling black eyes, so bright her body surpassed the stage of fear, and went straight into shock. Her twelve-year-old body shook in tremors as she slowly felt the breathing being cut off inch by inch as her windpipe closed up completely. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, and out of the side of her vision she could see her brother.

He was sitting, arms folded, eyes dark and regretful. She was going to let him down if she didn't overcome this fear. She couldn't let him down. If she did, she might lose him forever...

- - -

Nat's eyes flashed open, her hand immediately going for the switchblade she kept under her pillow, grip poised to strike at an invisible enemy. She was panting. The surface of her skin felt on fire from the fear she had felt in her dreams. Her body was already producing sweat in excess to cool herself down.

Nat lay back down on the pillow with a sigh, and slid the knife back under her pillow.

These nightmares would be the death of her.

Absently, Nat wondered if it was possible to die of fear in your sleep. Anything was possible. The horrors of living in the military had shown her that.

In the next breath, she threw off the thin grey covers, and pulled on black sweats over the black boxers she had worn to bed. With a silent heave, she sat up, swung her legs onto the cold cement floor, shaking off the hair that clung to her face and neck like a second layer of skin.

As soon as she entered the main barracks, she berated herself for not thinking clearly. But really, how _was_ she supposed to think clearly? Her head throbbed, her breathing was labored, and she still trembled slightly from the nightmare.

She kicked herself because, there, at his usual table in a secluded corner sat Reaper. He wasn't cleaning his guns, surprisingly, but reading what looked like a briefing packet for a mission.

Reaper looked up at her entrance and for once, surprise flickered across his rugged features. He was wearing a usual white tank top, dark green cargo pants, and unsurprisingly hadn't bothered to try and tame his spiky, dark hair. All the better, because Nat found she liked the wild look more than if it were combed back.

Shaking her head mentally, she strove for an air of boredom.

"I'll skip the usual questions concerning your sleeping hours and make an offer of some coffee?" Nat asked lightly, leaning up against the side of the wall, trying to hide the fact she was still to disorient to stand straight for long on her own.

"I could use some coffee right now, thanks," Reaper muttered, glancing at the papers sprawled out in front of him.

Nat made a face at them. It didn't look like a pretty piece of work to have to read.

"Next assignment?" Nat wondered aloud. She was itching for her first mission with RRTS. Partly, to prove to Greg - no, Goat - to Goat, that she could handle the unit, and partly because she knew it would distract her from her nightmares.

Reaper nodded and stood, taking a few papers with him. The two walked into the kitchen.

Reaper sat at the center island on a stool while Nat swung open a titanium cabinet, and grabbed an ancient bag of coffee beans. She nicked two clean mugs from the dishwasher - did Portman ever _not_ skimp when it was his turn for dish duty? She checked the filter in the coffee maker - clean - and dumped a good amount of beans, hit the start button, and immediately heard the familiar buzz of the coffee maker kicking into action. Yeah, there was that instant stuff, but she preferred coffee brewed the old fashioned way. It always tasted better.

Reaper seemed to have no protest on her method of procuring their late night drinks, and motioned towards the few papers in front of him.

"Basic retrieval mission, nothing too fancy," he explained. Nat leaned against the center island across from him, issuing her nerves a futile command to cease their frenzied state of alertness. She was alone with Reaper, in the kitchen, in the middle of the night. But they were also teammates, comrades, co-workers. Those were lines Nat wouldn't - shouldn't - cross.

"What are we sent to fetch?" Nat asked curiously.

Reaper gave her an odd look, before she saw the faintest tug of a smile on his lips.

"Assuming we're the dogs," Nat couldn't stop a smile at that, "I guess the treat are the bomb schematics our government seems to have - misplaced," he answered her in a neutral tone.

"Assuming so," Nat continued, "when would this assignment be classed as a mission for RRTS?"

"Most likely tomorrow," Reaper answered.

The last remnants of her nightmare fading, Nat sat up a little straighter at that news. She didn't bother hiding her excitement. Her first mission! But then she felt apprehension hedge her joy. Her brother had warned her RRTS was dangerous - Sarge himself had said her previous units would seem a walk in the park compared, and Nat had trained as a Navy SEAL. That was the most hardcore work she'd done so far. RRTS seemed like a whole nother story the way her teammates spoke of their past missions.

"I was wondering when that would start to set in." Reaper's voice drew Nat from her thoughts, though she welcomed the interruption.

"When what would set in?" Nat asked in a wary tone. Was Reaper starting to doubt her now - and were his eyes always that dark? Black, brown perhaps? She berated herself for the second time that night.

_Cut the crap, Juliet_, Nat thought irritated.

As if he read her thoughts, Reaper raised an eyebrow, but she was relieved to realize it was for a different reason than if he had actually heard her thoughts. Now she wondered if one could die of embarrassment.

"When the fact that RRTS isn't labeled the Death Squad for no reason," Reaper replied easily, though the answer chilled her.

Nat opened her mouth to ask something else when the coffee maker beeped behind her. A thin, dark stream of coffee poured in a round serving glass. The beep seemed to have shocked not only Nat, but also Reaper. They had both forgotten about the coffee.

Reluctantly, though not showing it, Nat pushed herself up off of the counter and hooked a finger through the two loopholes on the mugs on the counter, and turned to pour the coffee, her back to Reaper.

Cringing, Nat ventured, "And what about you?"

There was a pause, then Reaper said, "What about me?"

Nat still had her back turned, but the mugs were full with steaming liquid. Turning around, a mug in each had, she met Reaper's gaze square on. The déjà vu hit her again. Yet another mystery that she had to solve.

"Why did you join RRTS? What is the "Death Squad" to you?" Nat asked quietly, but firmly.

Reaper's expression changed from mildly interested to closed off and dark in a flash. She'd obviously asked the wrong question.

"It's a job. I get paid to shoot things," he replied matter-of-factly.

Nat narrowed her eyes. She didn't believe him for a second.

"No one's that cold," she said, her tone matching his expression.

"You'd be surprised," Reaper countered dryly.

"No," Nat said, remembering her brother, his past, his struggle. She glanced down at the mug of coffee in her left hand. "There's always a reason behind the choices people make. And they're never that simple."

"Heartless men exist. End of story," Reaper shrugged, but his expression was intense.

Nat looked back up and met his gaze. "My brother isn't one of them." The words came out more firmly than she meant them to. Reaper visibly flinched at her tone. "And neither are you."

She placed her coffee mug on the counter, and the other in front of Reaper.

Then, she turned and left, needing time to sort out several different things, chief among those issues including her mixed feelings towards the blasted Reaper.

After her swift and unexpected exit, Reaper sat there for a few moments, before deliberately taking a sip of the freshly brewed coffee. It was the best he'd had in a long time.

- - -

Nat had spent the rest of the night - only a couple of hours - reading up on the standard operating procedures for RRTS missions. Before Reaper had pissed her off, he had mentioned the possibility of a mission. Reading didn't usually work to calm her nerves. Most times, she would just picture the object of her annoyance on a punching bag and wail on said punching bag until she got all the urges to hit the actual person out of her system.

This day, though, she found herself reading. It wasn't the most exciting of materials, but if RRTS was going to receive a mission - her first mission at that - she wanted to be prepared.

Lying on her bottom bunk, back up against one metal mesh siding, legs crossed, Nat was flipping another page absently when Duke's head popped up out of nowhere.

She almost screeched, but caught herself, and only swatted away his grinning face with a soft chuckle.

"You're up, then," she concluded, turning her attention back to her book.

"God never sleeps," Duke answered in a hyper-suave tone.

Nat just shook her head. What would her brother think of that comment?

As if on cue, she saw Goat stalk past her and Duke, entering the barracks without even glancing in their direction. So they were still on icy terms, then. Fine. Nat could be a stubborn ass, too. Even though she knew she was no match for her brother, path-to-penance or not.

- - -

Just as Reaper had said, around 9 AM Sarge came trotting down the steps, a hard look of excitement in his eyes.

"Men," he had said, glancing at Nat just to let her know she was one of them too, "We have a new mission."

Cheers resounded. Not only was this another chance for the men to buckle down and get in some serious gun practice, but Sarge had also announced a long expected vacation that would commence in two weeks if all went well. That piece of news had both lifted and disheartened Nat.

She had glanced in Reaper's direction in the corner, but he had avoided her gaze.

Now, the eight members of RRTS were getting ready to board their transporter. All the men filed in and claimed their weapons. Sarge, Destroyer, Duke, Mac, Portman and Reaper had all IDed themselves with their weapons. Nat was about to reach for the standard RRTS gun, when a hand on her own stopped her. She looked up at her brother, and raised an eyebrow as he handed her a sleeker, yet no doubt just as powerful, version of a Timed Mine gun into her hands.

She took the weapon without question. It felt light and powerful in her hands. A girlish grin spread across her face. It was her gun now.

Goat walked over to an open seat and sat down, activating his weapon.

"Handle ID: Goat."

Nat glanced at her brother out of the corner of her eye. What was he up to?

Not sure of what this offering meant, Nat pressed her index finger onto the dim green pad, and an electronic female voice sounded.

"Handle ID: Blackbird."

The memory clicked into Nat's mind, and she smiled at her brother. After all these years, he had remembered.

Duke was the first to speak, as everyone else had seemed to be waiting to see what their newest team member would be nicknamed.

"Blackbird?" Duke looked between the Cathers siblings.

"It was her favorite bird," Goat replied in his usual calm and deep tone.

Goat and Nat met each other's gazes, and without even needing to speak, Nat knew that this was her brother's way of apologizing. And by accepting, she conceded her mistakes as well. They were okay again, for the first time in many years. Nat liked the feeling of having her brother on her side again.

"Still is," Nat added after a beat of silence.

With an inaudible sigh of relief, she sat down between Duke and Reaper. This actually hadn't been planned. She only wanted to take with Duke on the way over to their drop off point, hoping his mood would calm her nerves. She hadn't realized who was on her other side after he spoke up. The transporter had already lifted into the air and was whisking them off to their destination.

"What is it with your family and animals?" Reaper muttered, but in a subtle, good-humored tone. She sensed he was trying to make amends for earlier that morning.

Nat met Reaper's dark gaze, squashed the resurfacing emotions, and found her reply.

"You'd have to ask Goat about...goats," Nat shrugged. "As for blackbirds, I always had trouble sleeping as a kid. Blackbirds have weird sleeping patterns, kind of like--" Nat stopped herself, her eyes widening slightly. She was about to say "kind of like you", and tried to gauge Reaper's usual bland expression, but couldn't. "They'd always used to keep me company 'til I feel asleep." The finish sounded rather like a fable now.

Even so, they were still her favorite animals.

Reaper made no verbal reply, only nodded, and then turned his gaze deliberately forward, studying his gun shaft, the slide, inspecting it absentmindedly.

It's his safety, Nat thought, amused. Her safety was her slight insomnia. If she didn't fall asleep, she didn't have to face her nightmares. So why where taking so close care of his guns important to Reaper?

She didn't know the answer, but instead turned her attention towards the oncoming mission, hoping it would distract her long enough so her brain wouldn't put a label on her feelings for the man who sat inches from her.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: A combination of a red eye flight, jet lag, and another three-hour drive up to a cabin have culminated in this late update. In other words, I got sapped. But I'm back now! Thank you to all the wonderful reviews for last chap, they really made me smile as I fought sleep deprivation after getting back! And as some of you asked last chapter, I hope you'll be pleased with how I highlight how Nat's first mission went...and a warning, Nat's mind gets a little, _very _cryptically dirty in this…nothing above PG-13 ; ) -Karys_

**Blackbird  
Chapter 5**

"Shit!"

"I hope not, seeing as I'm in the line of fire," Nat replied wryly, her hands moving deftly to splint Reaper's shin.

Duke laughed.

Reaper just glared.

"When a bone fractures, it generally tends to cause pain," he muttered at her.

Nat just shook her head, letting the comment drop. The rest of the team, who now sat cramped in the transporter, sniggered at Reaper and Nat's conversations. Only Goat had remained silent - even Sarge had cracked a cynical sort of smile.

It was her fault, though, that he had injured his leg. Or maybe it was his. Nat wasn't sure. During the mission, she'd found herself walking on pins and needles in a mine field that her, Duke and Reaper had to cross in order to infiltrate the underground facility that housed their target - the bomb schematics. She'd made a wrong step - thanks to Portman for swapping left and right while guiding her with an infrared map - and instead of getting blown to the side by the force of the bomb, Reaper had taken the brunt of the hit. She'd been thrown back ten feet, landing squarely on her back, the wind knocked out of her. Reaper had been thrown into the wall, and had landed wrong on his ankle, injuring his lower shin.

_That makes it my fault, then_, Nat thought. And she tried to tell herself that if it had been any other team member, and if Reaper had seen the mine ahead of time, he'd have taken the hit, too.

And now, with the bomb schematics secured packaged safely by Sarge, RRTS was on their way back to headquarters in a transporter.

Nat had insisted on setting Reaper's splint, pulling up the fact that she'd been trained extensively as a medic during her SEAL training. No one had any protests about her setting the splint, except, of course, Reaper.

"Oh, relax, Reaper. It's most likely a hairline fracture. You'll be fine in two weeks," Nat snapped, her eyes never leaving Reaper's rather bloody leg. She had to clean and wrap the leg, then splint it. Reaper's protests had begun the moment she'd tried to move his leg into a better position to splint.

"And until then?" He asked in a tight tone.

"Ever play hopscotch as a kid?" Nat countered, still focused on splinting Reaper's leg.

Duke laughed out rightly at this, and several of the other team members were grinning.

But Nat didn't hear him. All her attentions were on setting the splint, whorling emotions and infatuations aside.

Nat pressed two gloved fingers to Reaper's shin, pinpointing the fracture. His flinch confirmed that she'd found the spot. She'd already bandaged the leg, and now set to securing the white plexi glass splint. After tying up the last bandage that held the splint in place with a small metal butterfly clip, she sat back on her heels and released a sigh.

"Thanks," came the soft reply from above her.

She glanced up at Reaper, but that was a mistake. In his dark eyes, for the first time in a while, she saw a spark of emotion there. Even so, she couldn't identify but she couldn't pull away either. The gaze was intense, compelling, and it had Nat gulp unconsciously.

"You know I got next!" Duke exclaimed, breaking the silence.

Destroyer shot Duke a look, and he quietened. Nat seized the moment, looked away and coughed into her hand, gathered up the first aid kit and its splayed contents. She saw Reaper turn and flex his leg, flinching but not grunting from the pain anymore. And to her surprise, he seemed just slightly flustered at what had happened, too. But he had done a better job of concealing it.

Awkwardly, Nat plopped down in the only vacant seat - in between Duke and her brother. Wonderful. She knew she wasn't any actress; so pretending that nothing happened just then was out of the question.

Instead, she kept her gaze intently forward, reading the warning instructions posted next to the door of the transporter. It was a poor man's way of concealing the rising heat in her face, but she still needed to ground her mind before trying to make sense of what she'd seen in Reaper's eyes just then.

She knew what she had _felt_.

That same déjà vu. Only magnified a hundred times until she felt like she was weightless.

What the hell was going on with her?

- - -

After returning to headquarters, Nat had dashed ahead of all her teammates in an unexpected fit of energy, calling as she jogged, "Last one who showers has mess duty!"

Everyone, even Sarge, stared after her like she was some sort of wild animal let loose.

One by one, the expressions of the RRTS members caved in to their female comrade's excitement.

"Well, you heard the lady," Duke said, grinning. The men jogged in as well, shoving and grunting while also laughing as they all made their way into headquarters.

Only Goat, Reaper and Sarge remained behind, still staring.

Sarge was the first to speak. "I pull rank. Have fun, men," he said shortly, walking in as well.

After Sarge's exit, Reaper turned to Goat.

"And you two are supposed to be related?" He asked Goat skeptically.

To Reaper's surprise, he saw a small smile spread over Goat's roughened features. This show of softness took him by surprise. It was the smile of a proud older brother.

"We are," he replied simply, and then nodded towards Reaper's splinted leg. "Need help in?"

"Thanks, but no," Reaper replied, smiling a little as well, "My pride's been wounded enough today."

Goat nodded sagely, and walked into headquarters, leaving Reaper alone with his thoughts.

It took a moment, but then Reaper groaned. Goat had offered him an out to mess duty, but now Reaper would have the lovely honor of the dreaded duty. Sighing, he began to walk, and realized that the pain in his shin had diminished a little since Nat had splinted it. Since he was alone, he allowed himself an unguarded smile.

- - -

"Looks like Reaper's got himself some fun tonight," Duke called tauntingly as Reaper half-limped into RRTS main barracks, referring to the mess duty Reaper picked up for being the gimp. Duke had already changed into a T-shirt and sweats, finished with his three-minute shower.

"Shove it, airhead," Reaper gritted out.

Duke put up his hands in a show of peace, then offered, "Portman's hogging your station again, but number eight is open."

Reaper groaned again. He would have to thoroughly sterilize the shower, sink and toilet after Portman was done now. All the RRTS members had specifically assigned bathrooms to keep catfights to a minimum, but of course, Portman never followed any of the rules. Only the one's that benefited him.

"Thanks," Reaper said, heading down the hall that opened up to all the bathrooms.

Reaper missed the mischievous glint in Duke's eye as Reaper turned his back and headed down the hall. Portman came out of the kitchen, a beer in his hand, glancing skeptically after Reaper.

"I finished my shower, you idiot," Portman sneered, then saw Reaper's retreating back into the hallway. "What are you up to?" Portman eyed Duke.

Duke only shook his head, and grinned.

- - -

Nat slid the dial down to the coldest setting, and watched as the water streamed out of the showerhead. Ever since her nightmares had resurfaced full force, she always took cold showers.

Stripping down, Nat stepped into the shower, and pulled the opaque curtain across the shower bar, concealing herself completely.

In the cold water, she immediately began to feel all her aches and pains magnified instead of soothed if she had been showering in hot water.

_Wouldn't want the boys squealing if we ran out of hot shower water_, Nat thought, grinning.

Immediately an image of Reaper showering shot into her mind. She blushed fiercely, her face and neck heating up despite the cold water, quickly shoving the thought from her mind, also wondering where the hell it came from.

Sighing, she rolled her neck, letting the water patter against her face.

Nat didn't know how long she'd spent like that, but finally, after washing through her hair with shampoo and conditioner, she clicked the dial for water off, and grabbed a grey towel off of the tile floor. She scrunched her hair dry as much as she could, then wrapped the towel around her up to just below her arms, tucking it in so it stayed in place while she got out to grab her new change of clothes.

Her clothes were piled on the sink counter, on the other side of the compact bathroom. Stepping out of the shower, she walked over towards the sink and rested her hands, palms face down, on the counter for a few moments to catch her breath as her body adjusted to the temperature out of the cold water.

The small room was near silent; the distant happenings in the main barracks were muted. Nat enjoyed the peace.

Until, that is, the door - which she swore she'd locked - swung open to reveal Reaper.

- - -

_A/N: You _knew_ I was going to have a cliffhanger in here _some_where! The next chap should be mainly fluff, and after that, it's the scene before the opening one in the movie! We're _finally_ getting somewhere! Huzzah :) Don't forget to review!_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: A big thank you goes out to all who reviewed - Lariren-Shadow, Lady Anck-su-namun, bloodredcherry, Lamminator, Christina and Bunnychica - and to all those who have this on their story alert, please review! I heart any and all forms of reviews...just not flames. It's still summer. I don't need them for a winter fire yet. ; )  
_

_And now that I have that cliffee out of my system, let's check in on Nat's ping-pong sized eyes...also, this is mainly a sort-of filler chapter. More good stuff is one the way soon! -Karys_

**Blackbird  
Chapter 6**

Nat's first reaction was no reaction.

She couldn't move. Her traitorous arms wouldn't budge from their locked position on the sink edge, her neck refused to turn and break Reaper's gaze, and her legs also refused movement. All she could do was simply stare, and blush scarlet like there was no tomorrow.

Reaper seemed to be suffering a similar reaction - except for the blushing bit - his hand still on the doorknob, half his body in the room, half the other out.

Nat was dimly aware of the fact that she was only wearing a towel, but her entire concentration was lost in those dark eyes, and the spark of something she couldn't name reflected in Reaper's gaze.

Reaper's hand slid off of the doorknob, but otherwise, he made no other move to vacate the room, or even break the gaze between him and Nat.

Nat was utterly lost - for words, and in thought.

And then, the shock wore off for both of them at the same time.

Nat crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously - not of her body, but of the fact that Reaper had such a large access to her bare legs, shoulders and arms all at once. And Reaper cleared his throat, coughing into his hand.

"Um..." he stuttered, for once at a loss of words. "Sorry," Reaper finally managed. His voice sounded hoarse. With...?

_With what do you think?_ A voice in Nat's mind taunted.

Nat gulped, and looked down at the sink she was leaning against. The urge to flee was so tempting, but Reaper was currently blocking the doorway anyway.

When she looked up again, Reaper was shaking his head.

"Excuse me," he muttered, his tone instantly full of a deep anger Nat didn't understand.

The door snicked shut in the next moment, and Nat was again left in silence.

A moment later, she heard someone scream, "DUKE!"

- - -

Duke was nursing one hell of a black eye when Nat walked into the main barracks twenty minutes later. She had pondered going to sleep early, crawling up under her blanket, hoping that sleep would block out the constant replay of Reaper walking in on her when she was wearing nothing more than a towel. She'd ultimately decided against the action, because her sudden absence would only make the rest of her comrades - namely, her brother - suspicious of her actions.

Thankfully, when she entered, Reaper wasn't in attendance. Goat was in his corner, silently reading a passage from his Bible. Destroyer and Mac were playing a game of baseball using whiffle balls - a favorite pass time of theirs. Portman was downing a beer while watching some show on TV.

When Nat spotted Duke, she dragged a metal chair over to where he sat on a couch, holding up a bag of ice to his left eye. She straddled the chair, crossing her arms over the back, and glared at the man.

"What!" Duke snapped, then winced when the outburst caused his eye pain.

Nat's glare turned into a smirk.

"In the two months that I've been here, particularly during physical training, I know of only two of us," Nat indicated the RRTS members in current attendance, "That nurses a sharper right hook other than Sarge," Nat said lightly. "One of those two people is me." It was a cocky thing to say, but it was true. "The other is Reaper."

Duke groaned silently. He knew what was coming.

"And since I don't recall clocking you in the recent past," Nat continued, ignoring Duke's groan. "Reaper's got to be the one who put that impressive shiner on your pretty left eye." Nat indicated the ice-pac with her chin.

"It was just a bit of fun!" Duke defended himself, indignant.

"Next time, play Miss Match with someone else," Nat suggested, forcing a tight smile.

Duke sighed, but nodded anyway.

Satisfied, Nat got up from her chair, but just as she was turning, Duke called out low enough just so she could hear, "But I'll bet he wouldn't have punched me if nothing had happened."

Nat froze mid-motion, and then forced herself to walk back to the living quarters, hoping that no one - especially Duke - would notice her fiercely blushing face.

Duke was an idiot, but a smart one sometimes, too.

- - -

The next day Sarge had ordered a mandatory testosterone fest for all of RRTS, or at least, that's how Nat viewed the competition he had set up for them. It's a fight between two in hand-to-hand combat; the first to yield is out of the competition, and the victor moves on to the next round. Nat thought Sarge had been joking, but Destroyer had been the first one to inform her that this was a regular event at RRTS - monthly, almost. He also told her that he had been the winner of the competition three months in a row a few months back.

"And who won last month, then?" Nat asked, now genuinely curious.

Destroyer nodded to somewhere behind Nat. When she turned around, he replied, "Reaper."

"Of course," Nat muttered as she saw Reaper walk past where she stood talking with Destroyer.

She turned away, and was thankful when Destroyer did nothing more than raise an eyebrow at the action. Soon after, Sarge entered the gym, followed by the rest of RRTS. Duke looked no better than yesterday - how hard had Reaper hit him, anyway? - but Nat knew he wasn't going to pass up a chance to even the score with the broody gunman today.

Sarge had an empty fuse box in his hand, and when the team stepped up around him, Nat noticed there were tiny pieces of paper folded up in the three-inch long rectangle box.

_One for each of us_, Nat thought.

"All right, men," Sarge began, "This should be interesting. You know the rules. You pick your partner's name, victor moves on, winner gets the prize."

"What's the prize?" Nat spoke up.

Sarge turned to her, and replied, "We've got six months of vacation, starting next week." Nat nodded - that was in three days. She couldn't wait for it. "Winner gets an extra three weeks," Sarge said.

Everyone stared. The prize had never been _that_ good.

"Sounds like I better fucking win this, then," Portman jeered, reaching into the fuse box to pull out a small piece of paper. He unfolded it, and swore. "Destroyer," he said, sullen.

Nat grinned. Destroyer was a formidable partner, and she knew he'd crush Portman.

Silently and swiftly, Mac stepped up next and read aloud, "Reaper."

Nat heaved a sigh of relief she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. Now she knew she wouldn't get Reaper, but then the anxiety of it all returned. If she won the first round, there would be a 50-50 chance she'd pull his name. She glanced across at Reaper, but he'd already walked over to the benches, preparing for his square off with Mac. From what Nat had heard, Mac didn't talk much, but he was quick as a bullet when it came to hand-to-hand combat.

Goat stepped up next and pulled out his partner's name. Nat watched a slow smile of grim satisfaction cross his face. He saluted in Sarge's direction, then went to the benches and begun preparing.

Nat sighed again, this time out of wariness. Sarge was paired off with Goat, and that meant only one thing--

"Looks like you're stuck fighting God," Duke chimed in. He had an over-confident grin on his face, arms crossed over his chest like he had already beaten her.

"Sure thing, Great One," Nat flicked him a brief smile, then walked over to where her brother was sitting on a bench. His eyes were closed, his back straight up against the wall, palms facedown on his knees.

"Praying?" Nat asked softly, sitting down beside her brother.

Goat's eyes remained closed, but he replied, "I'm going into the ring against Sarge. Of course I'm praying."

"You'll kick his ass," Nat encouraged in a soft voice.

Now Goat's eyes opened and he turned to her with an amused expression.

Nat shrugged. "He may have more muscle, but you're more tactful. You'll bring him down," Nat patted her brother on the shoulder good-naturedly.

To her surprise, Goat actually laughed. "Before or after I break a rib?" He asked her.

"Not break, per say, but could you maybe fracture and bruise a few so if I draw your name for the next round you won't be at the tip top of your game?" Nat asked with mock-earnestness.

"I'll see what I can do," Goat replied, smiling at the comment.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Quick update this time! We're getting near to the beginning of the movie, I promise. Maybe next chapter or the one after that. (I hope this doesn't seem dragged out - if it does, let me know!)  
_

_So now the competition chapter - I'm not so well versed in combat jargon (what's the difference between a chicken kick and a sweep?), but I'll do my best with what I know and research. Hope you enjoy and don't forget to review! -Karys_

**Blackbird  
Chapter 7**

The first bout of fighting was over.

It was twenty minutes later, and now the second round was about to start.

Destroyer had taken down Portman in three minutes. Portman, frankly, didn't stand a chance. Mac and Reaper had battled it out well, but in the end, Reaper had gotten Mac to yield first. Everyone was surprised that Reaper was fighting while his shin was still injured, but the stoic team member had claimed it didn't hurt anymore. In Nat and Duke's fight, Nat had used her smaller figure to an advantage, and forced Duke into yielding after about eight minutes. After laying on a few good punches, of course. She couldn't let him walk away completely unscathed - even though that attitude had cost her a newly bruised shin from Duke in the fight.

Sarge and Goat, though, were another matter. Their battle had been the bloodiest. Goat had been the victor, but not after receiving a bruised jaw and a dislocated shoulder. Sarge had yielded with the sorest attitude of sportsmanship, and after popping his shoulder back into place; Goat was ready for the next round. Nat was definitely sure - she wasn't going to be cut any slack because she was a woman.

After a quick draw, Nat found herself in the twelve by twelve practice square, staring across at her opponent - the six-foot-four Destroyer. She'd drawn him, and after their square off, Goat and Reaper would take the ring. But right now, all Nat's attention was focused on Destroyer. He wouldn't give in...easily.

The match began, and Destroyer made the first move with a lunge and feint to the side that had Nat on the floor in minutes after blocking and countering his attacks. She took a risk on where he was going with his moves, and let him get her in a headlock on the floor. The pressure hurt, and her vision began to swim.

"Yield?" Destroyer's voice came from close by. Close enough for her to try a move that she would hopefully work on the big guy.

Nat remained silent to his question. Before she sprung into action, Nat saw the look of alarm on Reaper's face before she whipped around, her hand groping along Destroyer's collar bone until she found what she was looking the for.

Nat slammed two fingers in the little triangle formed by Destroyer's collarbone and his shoulder muscle. The pressure point instantly disarmed him, the strength from his legs and arms depleted. Nat was released from the headlock immediately, giving her just enough time to hook her arms around Destroyer's, pulling his arms back so his shoulders felt the strain. She was beneath him, and had his whole upper body immobile. He couldn't use his legs to hook her around and unhook his arms.

"Yield?" Nat asked.

Destroyer was silent for a beat, and Nat pulled on his arms even more so his elbows touched each other. Her opponent let out a grunt and muffled 'yield'. She released him, and as the two stood, Destroyer looked at her, rolling his arms to make sure she hadn't dislocated both his shoulders.

"I'm gonna have to remember that move for next time," Destroyer commented as the two stepped out of the square.

Nat rubbed her neck, the muscles still throbbing from Destroyer's headlock.

"And I'll be glad to show you the counter for it," Nat offered, grinning. She rolled her neck to work out any residual kinks. Nat knew she'd pulled a muscle in her neck while she was in the headlock, but she would have to make do for now until the competition was over.

Destroyer laughed and nodded, and Nat was thankful that she had drawn two partners that had such good sportsmanship - especially since Destroyer had apparently held the title for three months in a row.

_Beginner's luck_, Nat told herself. It probably was, after all.

Everyone quieted as Goat and Reaper stepped into the square. Sarge, Portman and Mac were sitting on benches on one side, while Destroyer, Duke and Nat took the other side, giving the two fighters a grand audience.

Nat couldn't help but wonder what would happen if her brother won the match. Would he go easy on her because she was his little sister? Probably not. And what if Reaper won? Would she hesitate to do her best because of her damned feelings towards him? Nat had no idea, but she watched as the two engaged in a series of kicks, punches, drops and blocks.

In the end, it had come down to merely speed. Reaper was quicker on his feet than Goat, even though Goat had bested Sarge in the first round. Reaper had won, and as Goat half-hobbled out of the square - it had been an intense fight - Nat took his elbow and guided him over to an empty bench secluded from the rest of the guys. She didn't dare look at Reaper yet.

"Are you all right?" Nat asked, scanning Goat's injuries. Nothing _seemed_ broken, but she knew that didn't mean anything.

Goat winced as he sat down. "I'm fine, Natalie."

Nat rolled her eyes, remaining standing. He always used her full name now matter how much she insisted upon the shortened version.

She glanced over at where Reaper had sat down, gulping down a bottle of water. Nat noticed a quickly forming bruise on his jaw line, and that how he sat eased pressure off of his right ankle. She'd have to remember that. Before she realized it, he had caught her gaze, and she looked back at her brother, now suddenly annoyed at the fact that because of Goat she would have to square off with Reaper.

"I know you're a better fighter than Reaper. Why didn't you beat him?" Nat demanded in a hushed tone, hands on her hips. Her brother especially should have beaten Reaper considering the fac that Reaper was still nursing an injured shin!

Goat gave her a confused look. "Where were you during first round?"

Nat groaned immediately when she realized that her brother had gone up against Sarge before fighting Reaper. How could she have forgotten!

"Sorry," she apologized lamely, then plopped down beside him. "Well, looks like I can say goodbye to those extra three weeks of vacation."

Both were silent for a moment.

"Funny," commented her brother from beside her. His tone didn't sound funny, it just sounded neutral.

She looked at Goat. "What is?"

He sighed. "Go fight, Natalie," he dismissed her in an almost annoyed tone, as if he were talking to a five-year-old child.

Nat had to fight the urge to scream "What!" at him, but pushed it aside, and stood, walking over to the practice square. Duke greeted her before she could step into the square.

"He's weak on his left side, so I'd go for in the kill there," Duke whispered.

"His left side?" Nat repeated, skeptical.

Duke shrugged. "Well, yeah, I suppose. I mean, that _is_ where his heart is, isn't it?"

Nat smacked him on the shoulder she'd twisted during their square off, and Duke winced, glaring as he stalked back to sit on the bench with Destroyer, Mac and Portman. Goat was on the other side of the square, still nursing a hidden wound, and Sarge was sitting off on his own, quiet throughout this whole fight, an uncharacteristically thoughtful look on his face. Nat figured he was still sullen from being ousted the first round by Goat.

_Like men even think with their hearts these days_, Nat thought sardonically.

Shaking off everything but the fight ahead of her, Nat stepped into the practice square as Reaper entered on the opposite side.

Nat bended her knees, shifting her weight to the balls of her feet. Reaper seemed to be doing something similar. The two circled for a moment, measuring up the other. Nat saw nothing but a startling feral look in Reaper's eye, but she knew the adrenaline pumping through her veins at that moment probably had her gaze mirroring his.

"Any last requests?" Reaper asked, his voice deep. A smirk played at the corner of his lips.

Nat matched his expression, licking her lips in anticipation. "Don't hold back."

"I never intended to," Reaper answered.

The tension was almost tangible now, and in a flash, the fight began. Reaper had the upper hand because of his height - he was a good foot taller than Nat - but that also gave Nat the advantage of agility, something she worked hard to perfect because it was one of her better qualities in a one-on-one fight. When she did falter, Reaper's grip felt like iron, but just as soon she was free and spinning around with a counter-attack that Reaper had to work pretty damn fast to block. The two traded a few punches, and when Reaper landed a second one near the base of her neck, the muscle she'd pulled earlier flared with pain.

Nat stumbled back, and Reaper took advantage of the moment and swept his foot in an arc, centimeters above the ground, knocking Nat off of her feet. She landed on the padded floor with a thump, curling in just in time so she wouldn't get the wind knocked out of her completely. She rolled on her back, ready to spring up again when she felt Reaper's boot press up against her neck.

"Yield?" He asked.

The smirk on his face was far too cocky for Nat's liking.

She smiled a second before whipping up her and striking behind Reaper's knee, his leg buckling immediately. Released, Nat rolled and got to her feet again, only to shove out both hands to block a return kick to her chest. Reaper tried to twist his leg out of her hold, and the move while Nat struggled to maintain her grip forced her back a few feet. The struggle paid off, because her grip on Reaper's boot didn't waver, and his other leg slipped out from behind him, landing him on his hip with a curse. Nothing broke his fall, and he grunted from the pain his own strike had indirectly caused him.

Seizing her chance, Nat grabbed both of Reaper's knees and knocked them together just hard enough to temporarily immobilize but not chip them while she moved to straddle him, making sure to keep out of reach of his legs in case he tried to knock her back. She pinned his wrists against the pads, her thumbs moving to cut off the flow of blood to his hands to weaken any attempt he might make.

"Yield?" Nat asked, her face inches from his, but that was a mistake.

Reaper knocked his head against hers, and the pain reverberated through her skull as she reeled back from her position. Reaper shook his hands to get the feeling back into them as Nat struggled to her feet. Recovered, Nat realized with some satisfaction that he seemed to still be recovering from when she'd knocked his knees. The nerves there had to be rattled.

In a moment, the split-second rest period was over and Reaper and Nat were fighting again. When Reaper'd try to land a punch, she'd feint and he'd miss. Her kicks would be blocked just as effectively as she would evade his punches. As the seconds passed, the other members of RRTS were beginning to wonder if this match would ever end. Neither opponent seemed to be able to outguess the other.

Panting, the two broke apart from their fighting for a moment and took a greatly needed breath. Nat's lip was cut and bleeding, Reaper's jaw was already turning purple. His slight limp had gotten worse with her attempted kicks and his previous injury, and the slowly forming bump on Nat's head was starting to really cause her a headache.

"That goose egg on your head looks pretty bad," Reaper suggested, still out of breath.

"The limp doesn't suit you too much, either," Nat countered. After a moment, she said in a defiant tone, "Not quitting yet, are you?"

"No," he answered immediately. Then added, shrugging, "But it would be a shame if Goat killed me after I won if I hurt his little sister, so I'm thinking maybe I should call this fight," Reaper said.

"I fight my own battles," Nat bit out, glaring across at Reaper. "And who said you were gonna win?"

"What the _fuck_ are you two doing? Having a cup of tea?" Portman demanded from the bench.

His outburst snapped both Reaper and Nat out of whatever illusion they'd fallen into, and back into reality.

"I'm finishing this," Reaper muttered in a quiet tone, only loud enough for Nat's ears.

"Be," Nat ducked to avoid his oncoming punch, shoving her hand into the side of his ribs, "My," and dropped and rolled to avoid the following strike, "Guest."

The fighting kicked in full on, but still, the two never seemed to best the other enough to gain an upper hand big enough to draw the other into a yielding position. The two fighters were soaked in their own sweat, panting yet never giving up the force and ferality of their strikes.

When Nat moved to punch, Reaper grabbed her fist and when she moved to punch with the other she realized her mistake all too late - Reaper had both fisted hands in an iron grasp. He yanked her arms outwards, knocking her in the head again, which had Nat falling to the ground again in a sharp pain.

"Would you stop _doing_ that already?" Nat demanded as she kicked out blindly with both feet.

Her strike was met with silence, and when her vision cleared she saw Reaper doubled over on the ground in front of her, his face twisted with pain. Nat was wondering where she'd kicked that had disarmed him so successfully, and when she realized where, she couldn't help but grin. Crawling over to where Reaper lay on the ground, immobile, she straddled him again, this time not bothering to take care of his knees or arms. Reaper didn't seem to protest in his state of pain.

She leaned down and pressed both forearms up against his neck. The pressure forced him to open his eyes and met hers full on. Nat had to recover for a moment from the mix of emotions she saw in Reaper's gaze.

"Yield and you can have the three weeks vacation," she said, speaking as slow as she could while she tried to focus. Nat was still out of sorely needed breath.

But again she had made another mistake in letting her guard down, because in the next second Reaper knocked his forehead against hers. The pain was sharper - third time's a charm - and, groaning, Nat rolled off of him and flopped onto the padded floor next to Reaper.

She pressed her hand against her head, wincing. And then punched Reaper in the arm with as much force as she could muster - which wasn't much giving her current state.

"I am going to _kill_ you if you ever do that again," Nat threatened, her eyes closed from the pain of getting her head knocked.

She heard Reaper let out a strangled kind of laugh. He was obviously still recovering from the force of her kick that had hit below the belt. The two lay there, still recovering from the fight, when Portman's voice broke the silence.

"So, what now? Draw? Face off? What?" He demanded in his annoying tone.

"Yield," Reaper and Nat said at the same time.

Nat turned just her head to look at Reaper. His eyes were still closed, and though they'd just finished a rather brutal fight, Nat could sense the tension coming off of him in waves. Whatever the result of the fight, something else had happened some time during that fight as well, something that sent shivers down Nat's spine.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: I am _so_ sorry I haven't updated this in so long! School has started and things are hectic as ever! My history class is AP, which translates to an hour of homework a night; in addition to Spanish and Algebra...it's all such a blur!_

_But I'm here now, and since my family and I are going up to Bear Valley for the three-day weekend (score!) I'll have some time to write. This is the chapter were we finally get some details in Nat and Greg's past..._

**Blackbird  
Chapter 8**

At dinner that evening, not much talking went around the small mess hall. Everyone was either too exhausted from the fight to work up a conversation, or in too much pain to do so. All except, it seemed, Duke.

Nat knew she should have wailed on him harder in their square off.

Ice pac pressed to her forehead - she'd have to repay Reaper for that particular souvenir - Nat spoke after she finished gulping down some water.

"Duke, the next time you open your mouth I'll give you a matching shiner to go with that black eye you've already got," Nat warned. Her eyes were closed, but she knew her tone made her point.

Though, she did hear a soft chuckle. She figured it was Duke.

Now left in silence, the only sounds in the mess hall were her teammates scarfing down their dinners. Nat had tried to eat her food, but had gone dizzy. She had been nursing a serious headache ever since the end of the competition, and it hadn't gone away yet.

Opening her eyes, Nat watched her brother eat from across from her. Something about his actions had her studying him every closely, but then her attention shifted to Reaper sitting next to Goat, her eyesight blurring at the same time, though she knew she wasn't crying.

Goat looked up from his dinner at Nat, a questioning but concerned look on his weathered face. Reaper looked up, too, meeting Nat's own green gaze.

Nat cocked her head to one side, a frown forming on her face. Why was everything so blurry? And bright?

But then everything went black, and the last thing she heard were the simultaneous exclamations of her brother and Reaper, calling out her name in alarm.

- - -

_Nat knew she was dreaming, but at the same time, she also knew the fear that was coursing through her body was as real as anything. She was having the nightmare again; only it was different this time. This time, she felt like she was a _part _of what was going on, and not just a helpless spectator..._

She had her left hand on a black bible, her right hand raised as if to stop something. Someone was speaking to her in a serious tone.

When she looked up, it was at a man dressed in a bailiff's uniform. He was the one talking to her. She saw sympathy behind all the seriousness in his eyes.

Nat looked down at her hand on the bible again. She saw the bitten-down fingernails and the freshly healing scar on her thumb. Her thin bare arms were scratched with hairline thin streaks that were already scabbing over. These were wounds from when she had fallen out of a tree, almost thirteen years ago. She had been twelve.

That was also when she had been called to testify at her brother's trial.

Suddenly frantic, Nat's eyes searched for her brother, and when she saw him, he only stared back at her with a blank expression. It was the expression he wore when he didn't want anyone to know what he was thinking. Nat knew that. Was he angry with her? Annoyed? Was he hurting just as much as she was from this whole ordeal?

Tears sprang to her eyes and she tried to push them back.

"...And nothing but the truth, so help you God?" the bailiff asked her.

Wordlessly, Nat nodded. She remembered Greg's lawyers telling her that she had to verbally say "I do" when she was sworn in, but she couldn't speak.

The bailiff cast a glance at the judge, who nodded understandingly.

Then the questioning began.

Greg's lawyer, Mr. Simmons, approached, a careful and sympathetic expression on his face.

Nat looked up at him with round eyes. She knew this man; he had worked with her to prepare her for this trial. She trusted this man. Some of the fear she was feeling ebbed.

"Miss Cathers," Mr. Simmons began, and then retracted, "Natalie, can you tell me how you know the defendant?"

Nat remembered that the defendant was her brother. She'd learned a lot of new legal terms over the past few weeks.

"He's my brother," Nat answered in a small voice.

Mr. Simmons nodded, a small smile on his face. "You've been called here as a character witness today, Natalie. Do you know what that means?"

Again, she recognized and remembered the term. Nat nodded.

"Could you please share with us here what responsibilities your brother has at home?" Mr. Simmons asked in a patient tone.

Nat flicked a glance at her brother. He was still wearing the nothing-expression.

"He takes care of me," Nat answered, her voice still quiet.

"Could you maybe elaborate, Natalie?" Mr. Simmons asked kindly.

Nat bit her lip for a moment. Elaborate meant...explain! She had to explain how her brother took care of her.

"Before our parents--" Nat cut herself off immediately, feeling a fresh wave of pain course through her. She bit her lip again to keep from crying. When she looked up again, Mr. Simmons silently encouraged her with a small nod of his head. She looked at her brother again, but he wasn't giving her any support. "Even before our parents died," Nat began again, her voice cracking a little, "Greg always took care of me."

Once that was out, Nat found it a little easier to talk, remembering how much her brother had taken care of her over the years. Now it was her turn to take care of him.

Nat met Mr. Simmons' gaze, and continued.

"Our parents," Nat only paused a little this time, "were away a lot. Dad went on a lot of business trips, and Mom's work kept her at the office late a lot."

Nat's Dad was a businessman, quite successful, too. And her Mom was a social worker, taking on the cases that no other worker would touch, the most troubled teens that many had given up on.

"Whenever they were working late, Greg would always pick me up from school. He dropped me off on the mornings that Mom had to go in early on." A tear fell from Nat's eye, but she continued on. She knew it was her turn to take care of her brother. "Greg would always make dinner for us. Our parents were proud--" Nat broke off as a sob shook her. After a moment, she took a deep breath and then looked at the jury like Mr. Simmons had taught her too when she was going to say something she knew was very important. "Greg always made dinner. He'd make spaghetti for me and set aside some for Mom and Dad if they were coming home late." Nat turned back to Mr. Simmons. "He even made some for Chris and Jake--"

"Who, Natalie?" Mr. Simmons interrupted her softly.

Nat glanced at her brother again, but this time there was a look of alarm on his face. What was he so worried about?

"Chris and Jake are Greg's best friends," Nat explained; glad to stop talking about her parents for the moment. She had never really like Chris and Jake, but her brother was loyal to them and promised that no harm would come to her while he was around. She trusted her brother on that. "Jake used to work with Mom--"

"Your mother was a social worker, correct?"

"Yes," Nat answered, her throat tightening a little. "They hung out at the house a lot."

"How often would you say, Natalie?" Mr. Simmons questioned.

Nat frowned for a moment. "Maybe four times a week."

That part Nat had never liked. Chris and Jake seemed like okay guys, but there was a gut instinct in Nat that told her that they weren't like Greg, that they were different. Darker, maybe. She didn't know. Her mom had faith in them, even though her dad didn't. Chris and Jake were usually the reason her brother got into so many fights with her parents.

"They used to fight about them," Nat said absently, thinking out loud.

"Pardon?" Mr. Simmons said.

"About Chris and Jake. Dad didn't like them, but Mom had faith in Jake. Greg defended them a lot..." Nat trailed off and looked at her brother.

Her twelve-year-old mind was working at light speed, the puzzle pieces falling into place. Her Dad and brother agreed on everything - they were like two peas in a pod, so why didn't they get along when it came to Chris and Jake? Nat wondered, her thoughts forming faster than she could make total sense of them. Maybe it was the stress, the pressure of all the scrutiny...but suddenly she understood.

All the fights, how much Chris and Jake came over for dinner - for food only, it seemed now. How her Mom always trusted Jake, but her Dad never did. How fiercely loyal Greg was to the two of them. And how, when questioned, Chris and Jake had been each other's alibis at the time of her parents' murder.

"_OhmyGod_," Nat breathed, her eyes going wide.

"What's wrong?" Mr. Simmons asked, concerned, taking a step towards the witness stand. "Natalie, are you all right?"

Nat ignored him and turned her full attention to her brother, her mouth hanging slightly open. Greg had on his nothing-expression again, but that didn't stop the wheels from turning in Nat's head.

"You're covering for them!" Nat exclaimed, her voice going high. The court was stunned into the silence. The prosecution didn't object, Mr. Simmons as well, while the judge and jury stared on. "You were always so loyal and so was Mom. But Dad...Dad never trusted them and he was right!" Nat exclaimed.

Murmurs erupted through the courtroom them as Greg stood immediately.

"Stop this, Natalie. Stop it right now--"

"Sit down, Mr. Cathers!" the judge ordered, hammering his gavel on the wooden block, calling for order.

Greg's reaction spurred Nat on more as he sunk down in his chair in defeat.

Now she stood, her eyes still wide with astonishment at what her brother was doing to himself.

"Why are you doing this, Greg? Why! You didn't kill Mom and Dad! It was them - why are you covering for them?" Nat demanded, tears streaming down her face.

"Miss Cathers, sit down this instant or I will have to have you escorted from the court room!" the judge ordered in a stern tone.

Nat sat down and turned towards the jury in desperation.

"You don't understand - my brother could never have done anything bad! He's taken care of me his whole life, and now he's trying to take the fall for his best friends! Please, you can't--"

"That's it, Miss Cathers! The jury will disregard the last two statements. Bailiff, please escort the witness out of the courtroom and send her home with her social services representative," the judge ordered.

Nat was already shaking with sobs, tears running down her face. She probably seemed half-mad now.

The bailiff walked up to the witness stand and held out a hand for Nat to take. He was being kind and Nat knew it. She hung her head and stepped down from the stand, walking between the two wooden tables towards the aisle way. As she passed her brother, she mouthed the words 'I'm sorry' to him as she continued to cry silently as she let the courtroom. Her tears only increased when she recognized the look in her brother's eye as she had passed him - regret.

She had failed him, and now she was going to lose him forever.

- - -

Nat's eyes shot open, her lungs gasping for air as she shot up out of her horizontal position.

A strong hand on her shoulder pushed her gently back down so her head hit pillows. Nat looked up into a familiar dark gaze, and immediately the suffocation of her nightmare broke her resolve.

She pressed her fisted hands to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut again as tears pressed through, gritting her teeth in both pain and frustration.

She felt Reaper's hand on her shoulder again, a small comfort.

"Calm down, Natalie. You passed out yesterday. You had a concussion," Reaper spoke to her softly and slowly.

"Where am I?" Nat asked without opening her eyes. She was still very stiff from the fear of her nightmare and from not being out of bed for a day.

"The infirmary," Reaper answered.

"Where's my brother?"

"Asleep."

Nat swiped away the tears with the heels of her palms and opened her eyes to look at Reaper.

"What time is it?" Nat asked skeptically.

"A little after four," Reaper answered.

As usual, she couldn't read anything in his gaze. Pushing herself up to sit up against the headboard, Nat looked around the elongated room that held five cots in a row, and to the end of the room where cabinets stored all their medical supplies.

"So what are you still doing up?" Nat asked, a little defensively. Annoyance seeped through her tone.

This was the second time Reaper had caught her in a weak state, and she was getting fed up with it.

Reaper wasn't fazed by her tone, and his neutral reaction took the fight out of her almost immediately. She was exhausted.

"We were taking shifts until you woke up. Funny thing about a concussion is that it could put you in a coma if the situation worsens and no one's there to alert a doctor," Reaper answered, though his expression remained stoic. There was something else in his tone that made Nat pause, but she couldn't decide what it was.

He was, as usual, wearing his trademark black sweats and white tank top, his hair wild and unkempt as ever. He was sitting on a metal stool beside the cot she was on.

"Concussion?" Nat repeated, rubbing her temples.

"The doc said the perseveration would last for a little while longer," Reaper muttered, annoyed.

"Come again?" Nat arched an eyebrow.

"The confusion," Reaper simplified for her, "but that'll clear up within forty-eight hours." He sounded dismissive, trying to convince himself of something Nat wasn't aware of.

"Right," Nat met Reaper's gaze skeptically. "Good to know."

"Are you all right?" Reaper asked, sounding genuinely concerned this time.

Nat nodded, then paused when she remembered her nightmare. She knew she had to have a talk with her brother soon.

"I'm sorry."

Nat's attention snapped back up to Reaper at his sudden apology.

She was confused. "What for?"

"Our fight was probably what caused your concussion," Reaper explained, his expression darkening by the moment. Nat couldn't understand that either.

Nat opened her mouth to say something along the lines of 'It's not your fault', but she stopped herself. Apologizing was probably a big enough hurdle for Reaper already.

"Thanks," Nat said, a little awkwardly. She saw that Reaper was just as uncomfortable as she was in his tense posture, or lack there of, in a marine's case.

"So," Nat shrugged lightly, a smile forming on her face; she figured breakfast was in an hour anyway, "What's a girl gotta do to get some food around here?"

- - -

_A/N: There's chapter eight! Next update should be in about a week to a week and a half! A note to the 22 people that have this fic on their story alert and haven't reviewed: please review! One word, one sentence, criticism and critique, I love it all! Please take the time to review?_

_As for a little spoiler for the next one, someone from Nat's past from England resurfaces for a quick cameo, and the Kid finally arrives! Enjoy 'til then and don't forget to review! -Karys  
_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: I am _so_ sorry this took so long to get up! My history class is a killer, and with Chemistry and an Honours Spanish class, it's a lot of work. That, and I've got soccer coming up and have been attempting to get back into shape. Enough with the excuses, I just hope I haven't lost any readers! There are _28 _people who have this story on their alert, let's see some love and review, cool?_

_Also, some people seemed a little confused with what happened last chapter while Nat was dreaming of that day in court. I hope this chapter clears some of that up for you! -Karys_

**Blackbird  
Chapter 9**

Nat and Reaper were just a few feet from entering the kitchen when they heard voices coming from just beyond the doorjamb, not raised, but definitely not cordial, either.

"...Safe back in England, and here you're putting her in harm's way. Do you have any idea how serious that concussion _was_?"

Nat froze mid-step when she recognized the voice that didn't belong to any of her RRTS teammates. Reaper paused beside her, shooting her a questioning glance before marching on. Nat took a deep breath, trying to figure out a logical explanation as to why she would be hearing that voice on the other side of the world where she thought she left the owner of that voice behind.

The voices dropped off as she entered the kitchen, and came face to face with the same clean-shaven, medically trained naval captain that she remembered clear as day. Remembered, of course, because he had been the reason she had to transfer to the US a month back.

Her brother was sitting at the center island across from him, Reaper off to the side, leaning up against the countertop with an unreadable expression in place.

Nat flicked a glance in her brother's direction before turning to face the naval captain, "Should my ears be burning, Eric?" Nat asked the man in a neutral tone, not minding to address him formally.

Captain Eric Emery stood when Nat addressed him, squaring his shoulders as he answered her. Nat remembered that seemingly good-natured smile all too well. His white blond hair was short and spiked, bright blue eyes searching Nat's for any sign of recognition. He looked different in his street clothes - he obviously hadn't been on duty when Sarge had made a call for a doctor. He looked good, but Nat found herself oddly unaffected by his attempt to look his best.

His native English accent was thick when he answered. "It's good to see you awake, Natalie. I was just talking to your brother about your condition," Eric replied, motioning towards Goat.

"When did you transfer to the States?" Nat asked with mild interest.

"About a week ago," he answered. "I'm stationed in Eureka now."

_Northern California_, Nat thought, _Good_.

"That's nice," Nat commented without enthusiasm.

"I left migraine medication in the infirmary in case there are any recurring after-effects," Eric added.

"Thanks," Nat said, then turned to Reaper. "We'll be even Steven if you promise to whip up some French toast for breakfast. Deal?"

Reaper's mouth pulled into a half-smirk. "Deal."

Nat nodded, unable to return the smirk with one of her own, then turned to leave, but Eric's voice stopped her just as she was about to.

"Natalie, I-" he began, but she cut him off.

"Go home, Eric," Nat said, unable to keep he sigh from her voice. With that, she turned and left.

The young captain was left with an expression that much resembled a child denied his favorite candy.

"Follow her orders," came Goat's voice with a deep aura of authority. "Or submit to mine."

The younger man seemed to shrink a little in his formerly squared, confident posture as the weathered marine turned his full attention on him again. Reaper was careful to remain as still and quiet as possible.

Goat's eyes narrowed as he waited for Eric to respond.

Finally, the young man saluted, then stalked out of the kitchen. Both Goat and Reaper could hear his footsteps echo up the stairs and then a few moments later the sound of the elevator arriving at their floor.

"Natalie has the worst taste in men," Goat muttered before he glanced at Reaper to gauge his reaction.

Reaper merely shrugged. "You can't change that."

Goat sighed and shook his head. He turned to go, but stopped with a hand on the doorjamb, looking back at Reaper.

"Maybe she already has," Goat said, and then turned and left the kitchen.

"I'll just make the toast, then," Reaper said to the empty kitchen, mainly to distract himself.

- - -

Later that morning, while the men - all except Goat - were in the gym filling their mandatory hours of training, Nat walked out into the main barracks and over to where her brother was sitting in his usual corner, reading a passage from his copy of the Bible.

"Hey," Nat greeted tentatively as she pulled up a chair beside her brother.

Goat closed his Bible, and looked at his sister.

"Natalie," he nodded a greeting.

Nat looked at the space around her brother, not wanting to confront him about her nightmare, but knowing that she had to all the same. Finally, she took a deep breath, and looked down at her tensely folded hands.

"I had the nightmare again," Nat confessed, keeping her gaze focused on her hands.

On her last visit to her brother in prison, nearly ten years ago, she had told him about the nightmares, about the day in court when she had testified for him. He had said not to be afraid; that he would make sure she was looked after. Nat had yelled at him that the foster system would be hell. They had argued from there, and her last words had been "Stay the fuck in jail".

When she looked up, she was surprised to see a look of regret on her brother's face.

"What do you remember?" Goat asked carefully.

Nat closed her eyes for a moment; pushing back tears she could already feel clawing themselves up her throat.

"I remember the lawyer the court appointed - Mr. Simmons," Nat began. "I remember the days I would have to go with you to his office to prep for the trial."

"You shouldn't have ever been a part of that," Goat cut in.

Nat shook her head. "Let me finish, Gregory," she said, putting up a hand. Her brother remained silent, the regret cutting deeper on his face with each passing second. "I remember the reporters that followed me to school and home. I remember Laurie, the foster mother I lived with from right after the trial until I turned eighteen. I remember the funeral service, and how you weren't there. And I remember testifying." Nat paused here, giving her brother a chance say something.

Goat looked at Nat with darkened eyes. "I knew that if Simmons put you on the stand, you'd figure everything out," he said, his voice just above a whisper.

"I did figure it out," Nat mumbled. "And everything else I could have lived with - the reporters, the questions, the isolation. I could have dealt with it all and accepted it if I had known you were guilty." She looked down at her hands, spread her fingers apart and then clenched them into tight fists. "But you weren't guilty." Nat locked gazes with her brother, her eyes burning with anger. "Were you?"

"I deserved to go to jail for what I did," her brother replied back in that all too familiar dark tone.

"Not for murder."

"I created the opportunity."

"But you didn't pull the trigger!"

"It's the same thing, Natalie."

Nat sat back and looked at her brother in horror. "You blamed yourself for letting Chris and Jake into our lives and so you think you deserved to take their place in jail?"

"I knew what they were capable of, Natalie, all along," Goat said, running a hand over his tired face, "And I ignored it until I couldn't take it back."

"That doesn't make you a murderer, Greg! They deserve to go to jail. They deserve to rot in a cell for the rest of their lives!" Nat yelled.

"They got what they deserved," Goat said in that dark tone again.

Something in the way he spoke made Nat pause for a moment.

She raised an eyebrow and shot her brother a questioning look. "What did you do?"

"It's what they did," Goat replied quickly, to make sure she knew he didn't become a vigilante. Their parents had taught them better than that. "Two months after I was incarcerated, Chris and Jake knocked off a drug store and shot the owner. Accidental death they said, but they got five years for armed robbery," Goat explained in an eerily calm voice. "They were eighteen by then, so they got sent to the nearest prison: same one I was in."

"Where are they now?" Nat asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Prison riot," Goat said, a ghost of a grimace on his face. "They got caught in the middle of it all before the guards could break it up. Ironic thing is, they started it in hopes of getting rid of me." Goat chuckled, but it was a bitter sound.

"Fifteen years, Gregory!" Nat was fed up with his calm reaction to the path the conversation had taken. "Fifteen years!" She pushed herself out of her chair and ran her fingers through her loose blond hair. She whipped around to her brother, her eyes searching his for some sign of their former regret.

"Do you have _any_ idea how much you _missed_? How much _I_ missed my big brother?" Nat felt her eyes burn from oncoming tears. She collapsed into the chair again, resting her head in her hands while her elbows rested on her knees.

"While you were seeking penance, I was enlisting to get away from the foster system," Nat said in a broken voice.

She felt her brother's hand on her shoulder, a small consolation of comfort at that point.

"I am sorry for leaving you behind, but I had to do it, for me," came her brother's voice, now sounding remorseful.

"And what about me? Where did I fit in your plan of penance?" Nat asked, her vision blurred a little from her restrained tears.

"Once I was on the inside, I swore you'd never be touched by anything like that in your life, that darkness," Goat replied in a firm tone. "There was a hierarchy in the prison, and I rose to the top just before I got out, and I swore then two things: one, that I would let you live your life without my shadow over you, and two, that I'd spend the rest of my life taking down criminals, ones filled with even more darkness than Chris or Jake."

"And now?" Nat said, her voice sounding tired as she locked gazes with her brother. "What happens now that I'm in that darkness?"

"By His name, I'll protect you," Goat answered simply, indisputably. "To the death."

- - -

After the heart-to-heart with her brother, Nat found herself with a surplus of energy that needed burning off. She still had twenty hours of mandatory training to fill before RRTS was excused on vacation. Speaking of which, Nat made a mental note to ask Sarge about that extra three weeks the winner of the fight competition would receive. He still hadn't informed her or Reaper of his decision.

When Nat entered the gym, she saw Destroyer and Mac over by the weight lifting equipment, Portman nowhere to be seen - not such a surprise - and Duke and Reaper engaged in a boxing match in the ring.

The fight caught her interest, especially since her old CO had held boxing competitions each spring where the grunts and officers could fight on equal playing ground.

Nat's entrance into the gym went more or less unnoticed, and as she approached the boxing ring, Reaper glanced at her, and with that split second of diverting his concentration, Duke caught him in a left hook that sent the man reeling backward.

Nat covered her mouth to hide her grin as she walked forward and looked down at a temporarily disoriented Reaper, then she glanced up at Duke.

"Guess you win by TKO, big boy," Nat stated with a smirk.

"I keep trying to tell you, girl: God always wins," Duke announced, flexing his left arm in a 90 degree angle, a show off's pose.

"Why not have a clean sweep," came Reaper's voice from the floor, and in the next moment, swung out his leg, sweeping Duke off his feet and landing on his ass.

"I'm...still...God!" Duke declared without gusto, sticking up a defiant boxing glove in the air.

Nat and Reaper chuckled as Reaper got to his feet and rested up against the boxing ropes.

"I thought you're not supposed to be back training at least for a week," Reaper said as he nodded with his chin towards the rest of the gym.

"A marine's got to learn how to survive in a fight, concussion or not," Nat shrugged, reciting one of the many things the former trainers had screamed in her face back in England when she'd get injured during a session.

"Why don't you run that by your brother first and see if he doesn't duck tape you to the nearest bolted-down object," Reaper countered in a sarcastic tone, though Nat heard the smirk in his comment.

Nat rested her elbows on the top rope, and glanced sideways at Reaper. He seemed to be the closest to her brother out of all the guys at RRTS, and she respected him for making the effort. Her brother could be a pain in the ass sometimes when it came to letting people in.

"Should I puke now, or later?" Duke's voice drew both Reaper and Nat out of their exchange of words. Nat glared at Duke, while Reaper just stared, masked in an unreadable expression.

"Reaper! Blackbird!"

All three, Duke included, turned around towards Sarge's sharp voice.

"Sir," Nat and Reaper both echoed.

"Our newest transfer just arrived at LA Air," Sarge said, his hands clasped behind his back. He smiled briefly, then said, "You two are the welcoming committee; get going."

Reaper and Nat exchanged a glance, and a beat later, Nat called, "I'm driving."

- - -

"You drive like a gimp," Nat grunted from the passenger seat as Reaper turned onto an onramp that led to LA Air.

To Nat's surprise, Reaper laughed at the comment.

"You just had a concussion. Sarge, not to mention Goat, would have my head if I let you drive anywhere," he pointed out, his eyes still focused on the road.

"It still doesn't change the fact that you drive like a gimp. You're a bloody marine, you can break a few road rules every now and then," Nat said.

Reaper shook shrugged and shook his head. "I suppose reckless endangerment got you thrown out of your old unit."

Nat's sullen mood sobered immediately at the mention of her old station back in England.

"What did my brother tell you?" Nat asked, folding her arms across her chest defensively.

Reaper noted the change in her disposition, and chose his words carefully.

"Not much," Reaper allowed, giving her a sideways glance. "Insubordination to a senior officer."

Nat scoffed. "Senior officer my ass."

"Emery?" Reaper guessed.

Nat's head snapped in Reaper's direction, though he kept his gaze determinedly fixed on traffic. Her eyes narrowed in skepticism.

"He's known as The Rat back home now," Nat said, "No doubt the reason he transferred."

"You mean other than to follow you." Reaper stated.

Nat was surprised at the tone his voice had taken on as she continued to scrutinize Reaper's profile. She forgot to feel embarrassed over all the cryptic tone his replies had taken on.

"Does that bother you?" Nat dared to venture.

Now Reaper met her gaze square on, not missing a beat as he switched lanes and turned right onto the off ramp. Nat felt her pulse quicken, but employed all of her torture training to force the blood from not rushing all to her head at once.

"Emery showing up pisses Goat off, and when Goat's pissed off, those he trains with tend to take the brunt of his anger," Reaper said slowly, making sure Nat took in every word.

"Right," Nat shrugged, gulping. She turned her gaze towards the nearing airport, anything to take her mind off of the foot and a half space separating her and Reaper.

- - -

_A/N: What do you think? Please let me know if the conversation between Nat and Goat was still too confusing. & I promise the next one will be much sooner, since I already had to chop a few scenes off in this one 'cause it didn't flow right. Next chapter will have the first scene in the movie, I promise! 'Til then, to the people who aren't reviewing, please do! A huge shout out to all the reviewers who are reviewing - you all rock._


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: HUGE thank you to the people who reviewed the last chap! (I'm glad the heart-to-heart was well liked by a lot of you guys :) And to the people who didn't review - what will it take? You've got this on story alert, I've got over 500 hits for last chap...gah, well. I won't name names since that seems kind of corny, but at least I know it's being read/clicked on an insane amount of times. And that was the end of The Rant, all, I promise!  
_

_Now on to chapter ten, with a starry-eyed Kid and a little more insight in to what's going on in Reaper's head...  
_

**Blackbird  
Chapter 10**

"LA Air," Reaper announced without enthusiasm, putting their car into park after he maneuvered into an illegal curbside space at the drop-off/pick-up station. He sat back in his seat and glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. "We're a little early."

"Even with your gimp driving," Nat arched an eyebrow, turning her head as it rested on the head cushion to look at Reaper. "Who'd've known?"

Reaper copped a weak smirk at the comment.

Nat most likely would have found time standing still again, if the subtle throb at the base of her neck hadn't gotten steadily worse on the drive over to the airport. Gently, she rubbed the base of her neck in tiny circles, letting her eyes flutter shut.

"What's wrong?" Reaper asked immediately.

"Nothing," Nat tried to dismiss the worry she heard in his voice.

"A headache is not nothing, especially when you're recovering from a concussion," Reaper said.

"I'm just tired, it's not a relapse, my brain isn't filling with fluid..." Nat trailed off as she broke into a jaw-cracking yawn, covering it with an open palm.

"Yawn for effect," Reaper said skeptically.

Nat still had her eyes closed, but even with the knowledge that Reaper's gaze was focused on her set her on edge a little.

"Yawn for loss of sleep, stoic gunman," Nat snapped without gusto, and without thinking.

Her eye's shot open at the slip of words.

"What did you call me?" Now Reaper sounded vaguely amused.

She avoided his gaze and searched the sidewalk for any sign of the new recruit; and thanked which ever God her brother prayed to when she spotted the squirrelly-looking soldier just a few yards off walk out onto the sidewalk.

"Look there's our new PFC. Fetch and play nice," Nat instructed, letting her eyes close again to avoid Reaper's gaze.

- - -

"Ahw, shit!" Portman sneered as he took in the appearance of RRTS newest recruit.

"Why does that seem to be the phrase of choice around here?" Nat mused aloud as she trotted down the metal staircase, past Portman and collapsed onto a couch.

The young PFC looked like he hadn't hit puberty yet, Nat admitted, but he seemed like a good kid. Even if he had been sporting star-eyes ever since he saw Nat at LA Air.

Reaper was a few steps behind the young soldier and only managed a weak glare at Portman's comment. Reaper walked past the recruit and leaned up against his table in the corner where he kept an arsenal of guns. He crossed his arms, and waited as Sarge walked down the stairs and stopped at the young soldier's side, measuring the man with his eyes.

"I mean, first we pick up a blond chic," Portman continued his complaints. Destroyer, Duke, Mac and Goat all remained silent, knowing not to act like a donkey ass in front of Sarge. Portman, however, had no tact when it came to preserving his own well-being.

"And despite all previous attempts at improving the gene pool," Portman shot a glance at Goat, "She actually looks _good_."

Nat arched an eyebrow at Portman's suggestive tone. Without thinking, she cast a glance in Reaper's direction, but found he had his gaze steadily trained on the floor in front of him.

"Portman," Destroyer said, the warning in his tone.

Sarge only rolled his eyes and waited for Portman to finish his verbal escapades, tired of yelling at him three times that week already for his stupidity.

"And now we're on babysitting call?" Portman asked with a wide sweep of his hands to everyone in the room.

Nat let out a frustrated sigh, plastered on a fake sweet smile, and walked over to Portman.

She patted him on the back. "Why don't you pull the mag out of your ass and introduce yourself," Nat commented, tilting her head to one side in a gesture of faux politeness.

Destroyer, Duke and Mac all chuckled. Nat was happy to see Goat crack a smile, too; Portman only pouted.

Satisfied she'd shut him up - at least for now - Nat turned to the young recruit, and said, "Welcome to RRTS." Then, she walked past Portman and into the living quarters, collapsing onto her bunk with a deep sigh.

A brief silence after Nat left before the young PFC spoke up.

"Who is _she_?" He asked with wide eyes.

Reaper's head lifted slightly at the kid's tone of voice; only Sarge and Goat noticed.

Duke chuckled at the kid. "Our little blackbird. Her name's Nat," and looking the PFC straight in the eye, he said, "And if you mess with her, you mess with us." Then he straightened up and put on a big smile. "I'm Duke, and I think I've already got a nickname for your scrawny little ass."

Despite the comment about his ass, the kid smiled tried to hide his nervousness about Duke's warning with a weak smile of his own.

"Like she even needs a bodyguard with the way she schooled me," Destroyer grunted in a good-natured tone.

- - -

A week later, Nat found herself eaten up with anticipation. By 6 o'clock tomorrow, all of RRTS would be on leave for six months. It was the biggest leave Sarge had ever given his men, but with a matching six months of nothing but hard-core, high-risk jobs, he knew his team deserved it. Not that his team wasn't also aware of the fact that they'd get their asses whipped back into shape and worked into the ground as soon as they returned, but they were fine with that so long as they got their leave.

Nat was in the simulation room, running a solo practice session with a pair of old M1911 handguns. She had found them stuffed in the back of one of the storage cabinets. Nat's field of expertise was hand-to-hand combat, not arms, but she knew that M1911's had been out of commission for several decades. Newer models had replaced it, but Nat thought a gun was a gun; if it hit the mark, it worked.

"I'll promote you if you can still shoot like that after you return from leave."

Nat turned at the sound of Sarge's voice. She holstered her guns, and flipped off the machine that projected the simulation across the room's four walls.

"Yes, sir," Nat answered, turning to stand at attention as Sarge walked into the room.

"At ease, Blackbird," Sarge waved away the formality.

Nat nodded and relaxed her stance.

Sarge clasped his hands behind his back, and spoke in his normal, rather stern, tone.

"I wanted to let you know I'm giving the extra three weeks of leave to both you and Reaper," Sarge said.

Nat was confused. "Sir?"

"You put on a good show, and you're a hell of a fighter," Sarge complimented with a smile that looked more like a grimace to Nat. "Sergeant Blake was right about you."

"Thank you, sir," Nat replied, a little unsure.

Sarge nodded once, then left.

- - -

The next day, Nat rose early. She hadn't had the nightmare since she had talked with her brother about the trial and everything that had happened, and she had gotten all the more hours of peaceful sleep for it.

The living quarters were peacefully silent as Nat pulled back the covers, and swung her feet over the side of her bunk. In boxers and a large T-shirt, she walked out into the main barracks, cracking a deep yawn. The metal shades on the large wall windows were drawn, fuzzy sunlight streaking into the room. Nat could even see the little dust motes floating in the air where the sunlight shone.

The barracks, aside from her quiet presence, seemed completely deserted.

When she felt a hand on her shoulder, Nat nearly jumped when she spun around to face her surprise.

"Reaper?" Nat said, confused.

He was wearing his standard issue black cargo pants and a white tank top. And as always, his hair was dark and wild as ever, his eyes matched.

"Hi," he said.

In a flash, he raised his hand and slid it around the base of her neck, and brought her face close enough to his so their lips just barely touched...

"Hey, Blackbird!"

Nat's eyes shot open at the sound of her name being called. She was staring up at the metal roof of the bunk above hers, out of breath. Turning her head, she saw Destroyer standing next to her bunk, a hand on her shoulder, shaking her awake.

"You all right?" Destroyer asked, his eyes glancing over her face, searching for an invisible injury. "You have a fever or something?"

_Not that kind of fever_, Nat thought.

She let out a shaky breath, and pushed herself up, swinging her legs out over the side of her bunk. Destroyer took a step back, and leaned up against his bunk across the aisle way, arms crossed.

Nat wondered if the dream was a result of the concussion.

_With my luck_, Nat thought,_ it most likely was._

"I'm all right," Nat replied after taking a few deep breaths. Her hands were gripping the edge of the bunk on either side of her; she had gone to bed the night before in black sweats and a grey tank.

Destroyer didn't look convinced, but he remained quiet on the subject anyway.

Pushing aside the dream, for now, Nat remembered something that made her grin.

"It's start of vacation today, isn't it?" She asked.

Destroyer matched her grin. "Get your skinny white ass showered and dressed. The transporters'll be by at 11:00."

"Sure thing," Nat said, smirking at Destroyer's comment. She'd been given worse nicknames than that.

Swinging her towel over her shoulder, Nat walked out into RRTS main barracks. She had to forcer herself not to roll her eyes when she saw Portman walking towards her, a malicious grin on his face - the complete opposite of Destroyer's good-natured one before.

He was wearing a bright blue Hawaiian shirt and shiny white shoes. Nat shook her head at his eccentricity; but what worried her was that he had his hands clasped behind his back.

Nat glanced around the barracks and saw, un to her surprise, Reaper in his usual corner, cleaning his guns. She saw her brother, Duke and Mac preparing food, Destroyer walking over in to join them. Nat was pleased to see the Kid, as everyone now called him, was diligently mopping up some invisible mess on the floors.

"Now," Portman began, and Nat could hear the dark intent in his tone, "what I would like to know is..." he trailed off as he brought a small blue box out from behind his back.

Nat's eyes widened, and then they narrowed as she glared at him. "You're sick, Portman."

She heard the familiar clicking and unhooking of guns stop behind her as Reaper paused his cleaning ministrations.

"If it says ultra thin, does that mean Goat's little sister hasn't met the Big Bad Wolf yet?" Portman asked, shaking the box back and forth.

Nat contemplated how much damage she could inflict on him before someone had to pull her away. She was up to a broken wrist, dislocated shoulder and shattered ankle before she finally realized something. She wasn't a virgin, but that wasn't the point, either. This was classic Portman behavior. And kicking his ass would be exactly the reaction Portman expected. So, she'd given him something he wouldn't expect.

Nat could feel Reaper's gaze burning into her back. But pushing that aside for the moment - including the minor public humiliation - she walked up to him, and cocked her head to one side, taking the blue box from Portman's hands and looking over it.

When she returned her gaze to Portman's, she had to fight the urge not to wipe the smirk off his face with her fist.

"You ever do time, Portman?" Nat asked in a completely calm tone.

"What?" Portman said, confused.

"Jail time. Ever serve any?" Nat wondered.

"No," Portman replied, unsure.

"These come in handy for guys like you: the newbie, the greenie." Nat paused. "The fish," she added, smiling a dangerous smile. "Give me a call if you're ever running low."

Nat patted him the shoulder, then turned and headed down the hall towards the bathroom stations, letting out a deep, inaudible sigh as she did.

Portman stared after Nat liked she'd sprouted a fifth appendage.

"What the fuck will it _take_?" Portman asked, incredulous. He turned to Reaper. "You've seen her naked, haven't you? Did _that_ at least rattle her?"

Reaper glared at Portman. He didn't like Portman talking about Nat that way, but pounding the guy into the ground where he stood would most likely give him away, so he simply ignored him.

Denied an answer, Portman's expression sullied and he stalked off without another word.

Reaper realized after a moment that he didn't answer Portman because he didn't want to; he knew what would rattle Natalie, at least one thing that would rattle her - talking about her past with Goat's charges. He just didn't give an answer because he wanted to protect her from Portman's antics.

He cared about her, and that realization worried him.

Reaper had been trying to convince himself that it was purely a physical attraction he felt towards Natalie. Now, he knew he was wrong.

- - -

"Damn girl, you look fine," Duke whistled as he walked into the living quarters and spotted Nat.

She had finished her shower about an hour ago, and had changed into faded jean capris, dark red halter top with a tan leather jacket over it with white flip flops, a California girl through and through.

"After not wearing street clothes for six months, I was afraid I'd forgotten how to be a lady," Nat shrugged with a smile. She much preferred Duke's complimenting humor to Portman's sadistic idea of a joke.

"Oh, trust me, girl, you didn't forget a thing," Duke grinned, looking her up and down. He himself was sporting a plain black sweatshirt and dark jeans.

Nat stuffed the last of her things into her black duffel and swung it over her shoulder like a soldier.

"Though some things'll never change," Duke clapped Nat around the shoulder and led her out into the main barracks.

Nat watched him walk over to a couch and plop down, pulling out a hand-held video game.

"If you give a boy a video game," Nat muttered, amused.

Dropping her duffel off onto the couch next to Duke, Nat saw her brother on the far side of the barracks; Destroyer and Mac were currently locked in an intense game of orangeball; the Kid was back to mopping again; Portman was twitching like a fish out of water, and when Nat's gaze settled on Reaper in his gun corner, she felt the rush of embarrassment from an hour before hit her full force.

"You dead, man! Dead, ya hear me?" Duke muttered at the video game, drawing Nat's attention away from Reaper for the moment.

"Having fun?" Nat asked, amused.

"Dead, man. Dead..." Duke's attention was rapt on the video game. "What're you bringing? You wanna bring your boys? You bringin' em?"

Nat could only chuckle to herself. Reaper glanced over at the sound of her laughing, and when Nat met his gaze, the embarrassment washed away, replaced with that same, alien feeling in the pit of her chest again. The radio music was white noise to her ears, along with the rest of the world. She saw the same wild look in Reaper's eyes as she did the day he had been "misdirected" to her bathroom station, and she gulped.

Her dream resurfaced vividly, though instead of blushing she kept on staring into Reaper's dark eyes.

- - -

_A/N: I have to stop there, but I promise the next update will be soon! We're talking a week this time, though, possibly a week and a half. I've got a big Spanish presentation coming up and I've got to memorize it all (argh!). I'm adding in bits of dialogue here and there with the first scene in the movie, I hope the minor alterations will be all right - for now, don't forget to review and give some constructive crit if you've got any. 'Til next time! -Karys_


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: It only took me ten chapters, but here we are, the start of the movie. There's a lot of added dialogue, some background info on one of the guys…let me know how you like it! Enjoy! -Karys_

**Blackbird  
Chapter 11**

Recap:

_"Dead, man. Dead..." Duke's attention was rapt on the video game. "What're you bringing? You wanna bring your boys? You bringin' em?"_

_Nat could only chuckle to herself. Reaper glanced over at the sound of her laughing, and when Nat met his gaze, the embarrassment washed away, replaced with that same, alien feeling in the pit of her chest again. The radio music was white noise to her ears, along with the rest of the world. She saw the same wild look in Reaper's eyes as she did the day he had been "misdirected" to her bathroom station, and she gulped. Her dream resurfaced vividly, though instead of blushing she kept on staring into Reaper's dark eyes._

"I don't believe this shit!" Portman complained from across the room, letting Nat tear her gaze away from Reaper's before she got in any deeper.

As per usual, Portman's whining went on deaf ears as none of the men responded to his complaint.

With a shaky breath, Nat glanced down at her hands. They were gripped so tight her knuckles were white. She couldn't let Reaper affect her like this! How would it impact her missions? It was a simple answer: she couldn't let it. No, she _wouldn't_. She worked too hard to get into RRTS - one lone gunman wouldn't mess all that up for her. She'd find a way to get over her pointless crush, no matter what it took.

Looking around the main barracks - and studiously avoiding Reaper's gun corner - Nat met her brother's gaze from across the room.

His expression was hard and unreadable. He turned around for a moment, hanging something on a stray metal wall rack, then turned back around and, with his hands, signaled to Nat a message that made her freeze.

She decoded the message with no problem, and only hoped that no one else was paying close enough attention to what Goat had just signaled her.

Gulping, Nat looked away from her brother. _Shit_, Nat thought.

Just one more thing for Nat to do - make sure she never got paired up with her brother on a mission for a while, because his message, the one that had her stomach in her throat, was Don't double-back.

Nat sighed, rolling her eyes. Pushing herself up, she walked over to where Mac was pitching to Destroyer.

"Hey Mime," Nat called with a smile, her own personal nickname for Mac. "Step aside and let the lady have a turn?" She held out her hand for a chance to pitch.

Mac smirked and tossed her an orange, then wound up to take a last pitch at Destroyer.

Destroyer swung and the orange went flying across the room to hit a closet where Duke sat.

"Oh, yeah!" Mac cheered, grinning. His favorite game seemed to be swat the shit out of the orange with a baseball bat these days.

Nat chuckled at the games guys played sometimes.

Mac stepped aside to let Nat square up, flourishing his arms as if announcing a grand entrance. Destroyer paused in his swing and cocked his head in Portman's direction, tapping the bat on his shoulder.

"Six months without a weekend," Portman resumed his complaints now that Destroyer had given him partial attention. "The goddamned transports are five minutes late. And that's five minutes of R&R I ain't never gonna get back."

Nat rolled her eyes, and shot a glance in Mac and Destroyer's direction before replying.

"I know you think you're good Portman," Nat began. Portman and a couple of the guys perked up their ears at her two cents. "But I'm sure not even you could get warmed up in less than five minutes."

Destroyer was the first to realize the insult, and let out a hearty laugh. Mac and Duke joined in; Portman sulked and Goat simply ignored his sister's mild vulgarity, half-impressed, half-surprised. Nat didn't even dare to look in Reaper's direction to see his reaction.

The Kid had stopped his mopping for the moment, a genuinely confused look on his face.

"I don't get it," he said, helpless.

Duke shook his head and chuckled, coming up for air on his hand-held. "'Course you don't, kid." Glancing up at Portman, Duke said, "Hey, relax, baby. We're on vacation! Oh, yeah."

That pacified Portman, for now, as he grinned in response, looking a little like a madman.

Duke returned to his video game and whooped as he won some consolation.

Nat, Mac and Destroyer all returned to their game of baseball.

"You play ball, Blackbird?" Destroyer asked, a friendly challenge in his tone.

"Four years on a Junior Olympic team before I shipped out after high school," Nat confirmed with a nod. She wound up to pitch and smirked, "You bet I play ball."

She pitched and Destroyer smacked the orange into a lamp that was inches away from thumping Duke in the head. Duke shook his head and grinned.

"You wish," Duke said.

"I aim," Destroyer countered.

Duke's grin faltered for a moment before he returned once again to his video game.

Turning to Nat, Destroyer offered, "Not bad. You're almost as good as Japan over here," he nodded in Mac's direction.

Portman had begun to pace again, like a lab rat denied his five minutes of exercise on the wheel.

Nat found it mostly amusing, but turned to Destroyer for support on this one.

Destroyer caught Nat's silent plea and paused in swinging for a moment, and turned to the man in the white shoes.

"Where you going, Portman?" Destroyer asked, keeping the sigh from his voice.

Portman grinned. "I'm going down to El Honto..."

Nat could already feel the bile rising up in her throat as she walked over to the other side of the barracks and sat down on the chair of a couch.

"...And I'm gonna lock myself in a motel room with a bottle of tequila and three she-boys," Portman whooped, shaking his head like a dog with a foaming mouth.

"Forget what I said before," Nat shook her head, her eyes closed. When she opened them, Portman was giving her a quizzical, but cautious look. "You'd do fine in jail."

"Like Nat said: you're sick, man," Duke put in his two cents.

Mac wound up and pitched to Destroyer again, and this time the orange flew in Goat's direction. Nat whipped her head up just in time to see her brother catch the orange with his bare hand. She knew the other RRTS men would be impressed. But then, they didn't know that Goat was the one who trained Nat in baseball.

"I'm sick of your filth, Portman," Goat bit out. "Leave my sister out of your antics next time."

Portman grinned at the man. "He speaks." Then he looked at Nat. "And I thought that honor was only reserved for you, Natalie."

Nat wasn't in the mood to deal with Portman. He'd used up just about all of her patience when he stole her tampons earlier on.

Giving him a hard look, one that many would say resembled her brother's expression when he was pissed, she warned, "Goat's the only one that gets to call me that."

Portman was about to laugh, but with a quick glance at Goat, did the smart thing by just shutting up and leaving things at that.

Nat loved that she had her brother to back her up again. It may feel like making up for lost times, but they had always been siblings and always would be. That'd never change.

_And just a few more minutes and I'm on vacation for six months and three weeks..._ Nat thought, tantalized by the prospect. She'd have to spend one of those weekends taking her brother to a Dodgers game; they hadn't been to one in years.

"So, Reaps. What's it gonna be?" came Duke's voice.

Nat looked up and saw that Duke had discarded his video game, his attention now on Reaper.

"An armed conflict someplace quiet? Don't ask, don't tell kind of thing?" Duke prodded for answers.

Nat looked over at Reaper and wondered what Duke was referring to.

"Yeah, a little relaxing jungle warfare?" Portman cut in, now sensing it was safe to speak again.

Reaper paused in cleaning his guns, but only for a moment before he resumed and ignored Duke's questions.

"Or maybe you'll just stay right here," Duke mused. He pointed to himself with his thumb. "Gonna spend my time doing pushups. Gotta stay in shape for the ladies." He glanced at Nat with a playful wink.

"You need a girlfriend, Duke," Nat said, shoving Duke lightly on the shoulder. Without thinking, she glanced at Reaper's back to her; only Duke noticed this time.

"I'll get a girlfriend the day you get a boyfriend who isn't the white-blond English stalker type, deal?" Duke asked.

"Right," Nat said, distractedly.

"Was that the medic I heard about?" The Kid asked, genuine interest in his tone.

Nat shot Portman a look. "Gossip isn't good for the skin."

Portman spread his hands wide, attempting to portray a picture of innocence. In a neon-blue Hawaiian shirt and shiny white shoes, he failed miserably.

Nat just shook her head and let out a short laugh. She ran her hands through her hair and was glad to be sitting down on the couch at the time. Her past relationship with Eric - if you could call it that - was a complete mess from rocky start to shaky finish.

"Let's just say I got caught up in the London setting," she answered the Kid.

"A whirlwind romance. How sickening," Portman commented with disgust.

Nat sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm surprised you even know the definition of romance, Portman."

"I don't," Portman cut her off. "But for him to follow you to LA all the way from England. You must've done a number on him."

"Hey, Goat?" Nat called, eyes still closed.

"Natalie." Her brother replied calmly.

"Still have that orange in your hands?" Nat wondered.

A moment later, Nat heard Portman cuss out "You shitface!"

Nat was still chuckling when she opened her eyes to see Portman rubbing his shoulder. Glancing at her brother, she saw him wink in her direction before her returned to his Bible.

"Haven't lost that arm yet, have you?" came Reaper's voice from the corner.

From across the room, Goat smirked, his gaze still on the pages of his Bible.

Nat was again reminded of the camaraderie her brother and Reaper shared. Her mind started to slip back into her dream again, so pushing aside those thoughts; she turned her attention to Destroyer.

"Okay, so we've dissected my failed attempts, what about you Destroyer?" Nat said to the big guy.

"I passed with flying colors," Destroyer said enigmatically.

"What do you mean?" The Kid spoke up.

"You're married?" Nat deduced.

"Goin' on eight years now, huh?" Duke said, giving the man a hearty smile.

Destroyer nodded in confirmation.

"Wow," Nat said.

"You'd like her, Blackbird. She was in the NAVY," Destroyer said.

"Washed out?" Nat asked.

"Maternity leave," Destroyer corrected her. Now there was a silly grin on his face.

"You devil," Nat said, returning Destroyer's grin. "When's she due?"

"Three months," Destroyer answered.

"Congrats, man," Nat said, still smiling for the guy.

Destroyer was thanking Nat when everyone heard heavy steps trotting down the stairwell into the barracks.

"Listen up, men," Sarge said.

All the RRTS members paused their conversation and turned to their CO. Sarge's face did not read like a farewell card in the least.

"Leave is cancelled," Sarge broke the bad news.

Nat sighed and crossed her arms, casting a glance in Reaper's direction. By the way he hadn't paused in his motions told her that he had known about the cancelled leave before the rest of them had. Either that, or he was used to being let down and not showing that it affected him. Nat could understand the second of the two responses.

"Oh, man," Duke muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't believe this shit..." he got up and snatched his dog tags off of the top of a cabinet. "Fuck!"

Nat winced at Duke's grunts. She saw her brother stand up and turn off the radio. When the music stopped, the room was heavy with the silence, until Portman laughed in disbelief.

"Gotta problem with that, Duke?" Sarge cut him off, challenging Duke to disobey him.

"Me, Sarge?" Duke shook his head, shrugging. "Hell, no. I love my job."

"What's up, Sarge?" Destroyer asked, shooting Duke a warning glance.

Nat looked at Destroyer with sympathy. He was probably looking forward to this leave more than anybody, and now it was cancelled.

"We got us a game," Sarge replied, looking at each of the men in turn, then pausing at the Kid.

"Kid!" He called for his attention. The young PFC looked up from his reading and smiled nervously. "Son, you are now in the Rapid Response Tactical Squad, the double-R TS." Sarge grinned with pride. After all, he himself had handpicked RRTS. It would house nothing but the best soldiers.

"Fall in," Sarge commanded.

- - -

_A/N: I know it's an awkward place to stop at, but I'm adding in an extra couple of scenes before they actually leave headquarters. Just another chance to shed some insight on all these guys. I hope you enjoyed this chap - let me know if you liked all the added-in dialogue - don't forget to review!_


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Groveling at the bottom. I won't make you guys wait any longer for this update. -Karys_

**Blackbird  
Chapter 12**

Recap:

_"Kid!" Sarge called for his attention. The young PFC looked up from his reading and smiled nervously. "Son, you are now in the Rapid Response Tactical Squad, the double-R TS." Sarge grinned with pride. After all, RRTS had been handpicked by himself. It would house nothing but the best soldiers._

_"Fall in," Sarge commanded._

Nat felt an ominous shiver travel up her spine at the words, something she couldn't explain. She brushed it off as pre-mission nerves - this would be her third mission with RRTS, and as they said, third time's a charm.

With muffled grumbles from Duke and Portman, all of RRTS members jogged up the steps and headed down the hall on the left to the infirmary to be cleared for field action by a medic. With Captain Emery's hasty departure, Goat would be taking over the routine check ups for this mission.

"All dressed up and nowhere to go, huh, Portman?" Nat heard Duke mutter as he trotted up the stairs with the rest of the guys.

"Hey, Kid, better not forget your rattle," Portman shot over his shoulder at the PFC. "Bet your mom's still exhausted from last night..."

"Shut up, Portman," Mac warned, his tone recoiling with disgust at Portman's lewd comment.

It was going to be a _long_ mission.

Suppressing a sigh, Nat squatted down and slung her black duffel back over her shoulder, making for the living quarters. Just after RRTS's first mission, Goat had briefed her on pre-mission procedure, part of which included a physical check-up to ensure that all members were at one hundred percent before they shipped out. She figured she wouldn't need her wallet or personal effects for the mission.

Dropping her duffel off beside her bunk, Nat was just about to walk back out into the main barracks when two voices stopped her.

"Not this time, John." She recognized the deep voice as Sarge's.

"What?" came Reaper's voice.

Nat unconsciously held her breath. Sarge rarely ever refused to let a member go on a mission, let alone his unofficial second-in-command.

"We can handle this one," Sarge said in an assuring tone.

_Bullshit_, Nat thought. She knew Reaper was one of the best, if not the best, on the team - why would Sarge possibly not want him on this mission?

"You're bullshitting me," Reaper countered, echoing Nat's thoughts.

"No, I'm not bullshitting," Sarge replied, and Nat could hear a trace of sympathy in his tone, "We're going to Olduvai." The last word was said softer than the others.

There was a brief moment of silence, before Nat heard Reaper utter, "Olduvai?"

Did she hear fear in his tone? Surely not. From what Nat had gathered through previous digging, Olduvai was an archaeological research center located on the dead planet Mars. What could Reaper possibly have to fear there? His past, Nat realized, the answer as plain as day. Every member in RRTS had at least one skeleton buried in their closet - all except, perhaps, the Kid.

"Where did the request come from?" Nat heard Reaper ask.

Sarge sighed, then said, reluctantly, "UAC headquarters."

"You haven't made contact with--"

"No," Sarge replied before Reaper could finish his question.

_Contact with who? _Nat wondered. So it was a person he was trying to avoid.

Another beat of silence, and then, "Take the leave, John." Sarge's voice again.

Nat found herself wishing Reaper _would_ take the leave. She wouldn't have any distractions on the upcoming mission and he would be able to avoid whomever he was dreading on that planet.

"Is that an order?" Reaper countered.

A smile pulled at the corner of Nat's mouth. Of course Reaper would be defiant in staying behind, he was defiant on nearly everything else - why should this time be any different? He lived for these missions, it seemed. Then again, ever since she got a taste on her first mission, so did she.

"It's a recommendation, John," she heard Sarge amend, then added, "See you when I get back."

_As if you believe he'll stay behind_, Nat copped to herself. Remembering the subtle fear in Reaper's voice, she thought, _Maybe he will._

Nat heard one set of retreating footsteps, and just as she let out a deep breath, a hand flew out of nowhere to grab onto her neck into an iron vice. Nat sputtered, her hands reaching up to pry the fingers off of her throat as her vision swam.

"Jesus Christ!" Reaper swore, releasing his hold on Nat's throat as soon as he realized who she was.

Nat coughed a few times, avoiding using her vocal chords at the moment. If she tried to speak after they'd just so recently been crushed, she might damage them permanently. With blurred vision, she glared up at Reaper while she rubbed her throat with both hands.

"What the hell were you doing?" Reaper demanded, his tone colored with confusion.

"Breathing," Nat rasped out, "But apparently that was offense enough to suffer a choke hold."

"You caught me off guard," Reaper said defensively.

Nat managed a weak scoff at his comment as she walked over to her bunk, her knees buckling beneath her; she continued to try and massage the burn out of her neck muscles. Her? Catch _him_ off guard? Right.

When she looked up and saw Reaper open his mouth to say something more, she stopped him with a wave of her hand.

"It's a reflex, I know," she sighed, understanding. "I'm a marine, too, remember?"

Reaper stood across the small aisle way between the two rows of bunk beds from her, and crossed his arms over his chest. Nat noted, with annoying clarity, that she liked him better in his marine clothes than his street garb. _He looks good in black_, she mused. The stray thought made her roll her eyes, though she managed not to groan at how easily she'd been sidetracked.

Still, when she glanced up and met his gaze - defensive stance aside - she could see concern in his dark eyes, concern for her.

"Are you all right?" He asked finally.

"I will be one mission from now," Nat answered truthfully. She couldn't keep the nervous sigh from her voice.

Reaper gave her a knowing look, then said, "Come on," holding out his hand for her to take.

Nat took the proffered hand, Reaper pulling her to her feet with no visible effort. She may have been light compared to him, but she didn't think she was _that_ light.

All thoughts of her weight, however, vanished as she found she stood only inches from Reaper, her full height only coming up to just above his shoulders. She made a mistake by glancing up, locking gazes with him.

Her mouth went dry and she felt the heat rise all the way up her body. She gulped and it only made her pulse speed faster when she saw Reaper's eyes visibly darken, and not from his usual brooding anger. He must have just taken a shower, too, because to Nat, he smelled insanely good. They'd gone around in circles like this for the last couple of weeks, but every time they had these frozen moments Nat thought she would never get tired of them.

The moment she realized, coherently, that they were standing too close, she heard a familiar voice echo down the staircase, into the barracks and tunnel into their close positions in the living quarters.

"Yo, Blackbird! You comin', girl?" It was Duke.

Nat and Reaper could have been electro shocked and it would have been less of an impact than Duke's voice shattering their concentration on each other.

Nat ducked out like a coward, avoiding his gaze completely, before she did anything her brother might pound the life out of Reaper for later.

"Whoa, slowdown, Nat," Duke put his hands up as he saw Nat speed walking up the stairs and slipping past him. "It's not a race."

_That's what you think_, Nat thought, still utterly unnerved at her interaction with Reaper. She couldn't let Duke see her shaking hands.

- - -

"One hundred and forty two _pounds_!?"

"Don't let your jaw hit the ground, Portman," Nat balked as she stepped off the digital scale and sat on an open stool next to Destroyer and Mac.

"You know muscle weighs more than fat," Destroyer reminded the corporal.

"She weighs three pounds more than that scrawny little rat!" Portman exclaimed, jabbing a hand in the Kid's direction.

Nat shook her head and sighed, sparing a sympathetic glance at the young PFC's wounded expression. "Don't take it personally, man."

Portman was still in slight shock, glancing between Nat and Destroyer and then finally to Goat who was typing in a few updated stats into the computer. The team had jumped through the usual hoops when it came to their routine physical, body weight being the most basic and last one to enter in.

"Two percent body fat," Goat murmured as he finished updating the records.

"Oh, yeah," Mac rolled his eyes, chuckling a little. "She's definitely Goat's sister."

Nat smiled a little how Mac addressed her. She used to idolize her brother when she was younger; she still did, though she'd never verbally admit it.

"Where's Reaps?" Duke asked from where he stood leaning up against the door of a supply closet, arms folded across his chest.

Goat exchanged a brief glance before Nat looked away, hoping the blush didn't show in the dim lighting of the infirmary. Goat shrugged his shoulders in response to Duke's query.

"With or without him, we ship out in fifteen minutes," he said, looking at all of the men in turn. The only ones not in attendance were the aforementioned Reaper, and Sarge, who wasn't required to be profiled with a check up before the missions.

As if called on cue, Sarge entered the lengthy room, hands clasped behind his back.

"Suit up?" Sarge looked to Goat for an answer.

"Suit up," Goat returned, nodding once.

"Also known as, party time!" Duke interjected, clapping his hands and rubbing them together as he led the way to the room where all their suits and arms where stored. A few months back, the team had named it the Grey Room. When they were in there, they weren't waiting for a game to come along anymore but they hadn't shipped out either, yet. An in-between time for RRTS and its crewmembers.

"Remind me to waste whoever invented those stupid tank tops you always wear," Duke made a face as Nat paused in changing.

She glanced down at herself: she was wearing a navy camisole over her sports bra, one of many she always wore whenever they had to change, either for training or missions. She was all for campaigning for equal rights for women everywhere, but she drew the line at changing just like men did.

She smiled, amused. "I'll but you a box of Post-it's first thing when we get back," she promised as she pulled a black tee over her head and slipping on a form fitting Kevlar vest.

"Yeah, yeah..." Duke muttered, grabbing his black utility jacket out of his locker and pulling it on. He could hear muffled chuckles from Destroyer and Mac next to him.

"Hey, Mr. Expecting," Nat called as she filled her jacket pockets with the custom made magazines Goat had had fashioned for her gun.

"Yeah?" Destroyer answered, as he slipped on a second Kevlar vest; he wasn't taking any chances on not returning from his mission.

Nat paused in her ministrations and caught the man's gaze. "Boy or girl?"

Destroyer grinned that goofy grin of his. "Boy."

Nat chuckled and slammed her locker shut as she stuffed an energy drink into her last vacant pocket on her jacket. The other team members were finished suiting up too and a moment of silence descended on all of them. Even the Kid, who hadn't gone on any missions yet, knew what this moment was for. A short, still moment where, even if they didn't believe in a god after all they'd seen on their previous missions, they still took a moment. Each one looked at the other in turn and finally, Goat nodded and strode out of the Grey Room, making for the transporting landing.

On their way out, they passed the infirmary, Nat bringing up the rear. She saw Reaper typing in a few stats on the computer; he turned and looked at her when she paused at the doorway.

The conversation where she'd eavesdropped came into her mind. Was he still afraid of going even though he was suiting up anyway?

Nat opened her mouth to say something, paused, and then finally said, "Hurry up."

Reaper stood and walked past her, nodding curtly as he did, and jogged to the Grey Room to suit up. Nat watched his retreating back with a warm feeling in her chest.

- - -

_A/N: Okay, so the grovelling part. I'm am so, _so_ sorry that this took three months to post. November was filled with Nanowrimo and soccer and December had all that holiday shit going on...and January. Can you spell Winter Finals? Yeah, my brain's about fried from my Honors Spanish final (took that one yesterday) and my Chem final (took on that beastie today), but I've got a no brainer tomorrow with English._

_Again, I'm very sorry this was so delayed. I hope the characters are still in-character. And I hope I made it long enough to satisfy you guys for now! I've got a soccer tournament next weekend, so the next update should be up in about two weeks._

_Keep your fingers crossed! (Eek.)_

_Now that that's all rambled out, shower me with critcism on this chap (I deserve it) and let me know your thoughts! -Karys_

_PS: 40 peeps have this on their story alert. I'll update in a week if ya can get them all to review!_


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